Shattered
by Roadrunnerz
Summary: Sometimes you have to hit the bottom before you can climb back up
1. Chapter 1

Inspired by two James Morrison songs (Broken Strings and I Won't Let You Go - one about knowing when to call it quits and the other about not giving up on the one you love) on a dreary winter day, this one's a little bleak and angsty. Even for me.

Usual fanfic disclaimers apply. These characters don't belong to me. They'd probably be a bit more tormented if they did. ;) All mistakes are mine.

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><p><em>-The truth hurts, but a lie's worse <em>

**Chapter 1**

_Lightman Group, Washington DC _

"I'm not doing this again." Cal Lightman paced through his office, arms waving in the air. "I am not going to sit there and listen to that scumbag lawyer..."

"_Our_ company attorney," she corrected him. "The man trying to help us fight this lawsuit."

Cal was undeterred. "Listen to that scumbag tell me that I have to go through a psych evaluation just to prove that I'm mentally stable..._come on_, Gill." He fumed. "Is this what it's come down to?"

"I don't know, is it?" She stared at him in the amber light of his office. It was late and the two of them were the only ones left on the floor. Except maybe for Loker, whom he'd seen in the lab earlier, analysing a herd of something or other.

"Maybe..." Gillian emphasized, her words cutting through the air like a knife. "You should have thought about that before you decided to punch out a cop. In a police station."

"A crooked cop who collected money from both sides while he watched kids blow each others' brains out in gang wars," he reminded her.

She sat down in the chair across from his desk. There was a lot he was able to read in her familiar features tonight. Tension, fatigue, frustration and anger, just to name a few.

There had been so many arguments between them lately he'd lost track. He couldn't remember the last time they had a conversation that didn't end in an argument. What happened to the days when they could spend hours bouncing ideas off each other over a meal? Or wind down after a long day over jokes and a beer in a pub?

_When the hell did you start taking their side? I thought we were partners. Thought you were my best friend. _

"We didn't have any proof..." she reminded him softly, massaging her temple with an index finger. "Even if we did...it's not an excuse for you to nominate yourself judge, jury and executioner."

Cal frowned. Still pacing. She could be so dramatic sometimes. "I punched the guy in the face. I didn't kill him."

"Yeah...you punched him in the face without giving a second's thought to the consequences it would have for this company. _Our company_." The bitterness dripped from her voice now. "It's not enough that we were on the brink of bankruptcy, and had to lay of six employees last month...no, you needed a multi-million dollar lawsuit to top things off." She sank back into the chair. "You can be so goddamn selfish sometimes."

Cal could take her anger. Most of the time it was justified, even he could admit as much. It was the disappointment and the disdain she'd thrown at him this week were harder to stomach.

"And you can be so bloody self-righteous sometimes."

"Take the psych evaluation," she repeated, making an effort not to let the last words sting. "It's the least you can do at this point."

_I'd never ask you to prove something like that._

"No."

"Don't you think we're past the point of you digging in your heels to prove a point?" she accused him. "If you don't do this and they win this law suit because of it..."

His mother had been mentally unstable. But he wasn't. Never would be. It was the one certainty he'd stake his life on.

Truth was, there wasn't a lot he wouldn't do for Gillian Foster. At least not when she asked him the way she did now. Half desperate, half pleading. But this might be one of them.

_I don't need a test to tell me I'm sane...especially not for being the only one who had the balls to man up to a lousy excuse of a human being hiding behind a shiny, gold badge. _

"I guess..." she said slowly, getting up from her chair. "We have nothing to discuss then."

"I can't _believe_ you're asking me to..." Cal wanted to punch something. Vent his frustrations against a wall so that he'd end up with two bandaged hands rather than one. It would be a fitting way to end this miserable week.

"I can't believe you won't even consider it to save our company!"

"When did one become a condition of the other?"

Instead of hitting the wall, Cal banged his hand into his bookcase. Rattling the entire thing.

One loose book flew off a shelf. Followed by another one. Then a picture inside a glass frame toppled over as well.

Cal ducked.

There was a heavy African scythe that sat at the very top, on a display case. A souvenir from his dissertation days in Central Africa.

Banging his hand into the shelf made the display case wobble, slightly at first, then more so, as it gained momentum before finally tipping over.

Cal envisioned it crashing down too. He cringed as he expected both items to hit the floor with a thud.

What he didn't expect was for Gillian to move her arm over her head to shield herself from them. Or to be standing right in the way of both.

_Oh no, no, no..._

He jumped to push her away but he was too late.

Horrified, he watched as the blade from the scythe sliced into her arm, leaving behind a thick, crimson line that curved from her elbow down to her wrist before the whole thing hit the floor with an ear-shattering clang.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Forgot to mention, story takes place a few months after the series finale.

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><p><strong>Chapter 2<strong>

_Lightman Group, Washington, DC _

At first he was paralysed. His heart sinking into his gut and settling there. Unbearably heavy and laced with instant guilt and self-loathing.

Gillian cried out when the blade cut her arm. Then she gasped when she saw her blood dripping to the floor.

It was the sound of her voice that snapped Cal out of his immobility.

Aside from a box of tissues on his desk, there was no other fabric in the room, so he tore off the shirt he was wearing, ripping off the buttons in the process. Not bothering to take the time to undo them. It would've taken forever since one of his hands was still partly bandaged from the fist fight last week.

_Jesus Christ...I'm sorry. _

He couldn't get the words out. Not that it mattered. Sorry wasn't enough this time.

Gillian was leaning against the bookshelf he'd hit and Cal went to her, wrapping his shirt around her arm tightly, letting it soak up the blood. Trying to stop the flow.

The cut was long and deep. It would need stitches.

But then he knew how dangerously sharp the blade was. He'd used it to cut through thick, rubbery foliage in the jungles of Cameroon.

Now he cursed himself for bringing it here. For displaying it with the kind of colonial pride he'd sworn he didn't have, instead of leaving the damn thing in Africa, where it belonged.

"Cal...?" Gillian's face was pale now as his shirt soaked up her blood, turning its light blue colour into a dark, angry red.

She looked like she might pass out.

Cal put his bare arms around her, moving her towards his leather couch. "Come on, luv. I think you should lie down." He could barely croak out the words.

Gently, he helped her lie down, loosened the belt on her skirt, took off her heels and lifted her legs up on the couch.

"Breathe," he managed to tell her, as he kneeled down next to her, running his thumb along her cheek. "Deep breath." He nodded when she complied. "Another one. Slowly."

Tears fell down her cheeks, tightening the knot in his stomach. The shirt he'd wrapped around her arm kept getting redder.

"I think I'm going to be sick..."

Cal ran to get the waste basket that sat at the foot of his desk and moved it next to the couch. There was so much blood all over her. It had stained her own blouse and skirt now.

_Don't just stand there. Call for help. _

Cal jumped up to dial 911 from his desk phone.

"There was an accident..." _Liar._ "My colleague cut her arm and she's losing a lot of blood." He gave the operator the address while his gaze was fixed on Gillian.

After he hung up, Cal noticed that he'd smeared the phone with blood too. That his fingers were full of it.

He didn't care.

Cal went back to her. She hadn't thrown up. Had managed to breathe through it. _That's my girl. _

But she was so pale and quiet it terrified him.

There were things he wanted to say. But he couldn't get anything out. He, who was never at a loss for words.

Cal eyed the carafe of brandy that stood on a counter near the window sill and went to pour a generous amount of it into a glass and brought it to her, held it up for her.

Gillian shook her head. "No."

"It'll help," he told her, not sure whether it would. But numbing the pain might be a start.

She finally took a sip before sinking back against the armrest of his couch. Groaning. "It hurts, Cal."

Her words cut into him. Like daggers. Paralysing him all over again.

"I know..."

_And it's my fault. _

His shirt was drenched in blood. He would need something else before the paramedics got here.

Cal ran into the dark, deserted office hallway.

"Loker!"

He could have sworn he'd seen him still doing work before Gillian came into his office. Everyone else had gone home for the day.

_"Loker!" _

Cal finally saw a mop of dark, wavy hair peeking out from the lab two doors down. "Lightman? What is it?"

"Get over here!"

Eli Loker's face had a puzzled expression as he walked towards him. "Is something wrong?"

"Take off your shirt..."

Loker looked at him incredulously. "What?"

_"Now!" _

He'd already started undoing the buttons on his shirt when he stepped inside of Cal's office. Just before his jaw dropped. "Oh my god..."

His glance went from the blood-stained floor to Gillian lying on the couch. "Foster?"

Cal grabbed the shirt from Eli and went to tighten it around Gillian's arm. "Paramedics are gonna be here any minute, luv, okay?"

Eli Loker was stunned. "What...what happened? Let me get the first aid kit..."

Cal ignored him, his attention back on Gillian. Arm around her shoulders, helping her sit up, he made her drink another generous sip of brandy.

Sirens howled in the distance, getting louder as they got closer to the Lightman Group.

"Cal..." He heard her whisper.

"Yeah...?"

Her eyes were rimmed with tears. Angry, bitter tears. "Get away from me."

Cal swallowed. The knot tightened again and his mouth was dry as sandpaper. "Not until I make sure you're okay."

Her face was a mask of hurt.

He shook his head, his voice a murmur as he leaned into her. "Gill..." He swallowed. A lump in his throat now. "I need to know you're gonna be alright."

She didn't bother wiping away her tears. "I don't give a damn what you need."

He heard the sound of footsteps running down the hall. The paramedics were here.

Cal squeezed her hand. "You're the last person I'd ever want to hurt."

She turned away from him, not wanting to hear it.

The paramedics were already in the office when Cal turned to Loker. "Can you go to the hospital with her?"

Loker nodded. "Yeah...of course."

"Make sure she's alright. Gets home okay." Cal handed him a credit card. "For whatever taxi or car service you need to take. Whatever she needs...get it for her, okay?"

"What about you?" Loker stared at him, unable to tell what blood came from where. There was so much of it. "Are you hurt too?"

Cal's legs felt as though they might give in, when he suddenly realized that nothing would ever go back to being the way it was.

"Just take care of her."


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Big, fat thanks to GDA, for agreeing to be my proof-reader once again.

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><p><strong>Chapter 3 <strong>

_George Washington University Hospital, DC _

More than five hours later and they were finally ready to let her leave.

All she really wanted was for them to stitch things up and let her go.

But there were tests to start. Then a very persuasive doctor who insisted that refusing a blood transfusion really wasn't in her best interest.

A doctor who hadn't convinced her at all, but who had somehow managed to fill Eli Loker's head with visions of doom.

_"He says you're gonna feel crap for days, Foster, if you don't do this! Days! Maybe a week or more. Is that really a better alternative to staying here for half the night?" _

_"Yeah. It is." _

_He'd stopped just short of rolling his eyes and tossing his hands in the air. "Why do I feel like an exasperated parent? You need to do this! Can't you see that? If you don't do this...then I'm going to...I'm going to call him! Lightman will knock some sense..."_

_"Oh, I don't think so." Anger had flooded her again. "He's knocked enough into me tonight." _

_Loker had cringed. "Okay that...was a bad choice of words. It's not what I meant. It's just...who else will...?" _

_"Don't even think about it." She'd cut him off and glared at him with the little energy she had left. "Fine. I'll do the blood transfusion. One unit. That's it. No more and I'm not staying the night...I'm telling you right now no matter what kind of threats you make, I'm still your boss!"_

_"Yes, yes..." In turn he'd given her a loopy, relieved smile. "I know, I know." _

And now, in the early morning; two shots, two lab tests and one transfusion later, Loker was still there. Patiently sitting in the waiting room after her final results had come back. Her arm was neatly bandaged and Loker, who'd been shirtless coming in, was now wearing a green scrub top over his jeans. He got up as soon as they wheeled her out, holding a white paper bag from the hospital pharmacy.

"Antibiotics and pain pills," he explained. "The good stuff. You could sell these on the street and make some money."

Gillian mustered smile. "Thanks."

"Now I'm taking you home." He was still painfully cheerful, as if Cal Lightman was somehow watching him over his shoulders. Gillian wanted to tell him to stop but didn't have the heart. Not after he'd patiently sat in the ER with her all this time. Not after he'd already gone to her house and back to fetch her a change of clothes.

He held up the credit card that Cal had given him. "Do you want a stretch limo?"

Gillian couldn't tell if he was joking or not.

"It's comfier."

"It depends, did Cal give you his personal credit card or the company one?"

"Lemme check..."

Gillian put her uninjured arm on Loker's. Her lone attempt at humour tonight falling flat. "I was kidding."

Gillian winced as he helped her up. One of the shots they'd given her had dulled the pain in her arm, but at this point she was sore everywhere.

_Just because you couldn't control your anger. Couldn't help yourself once again. _

The doctor who'd taken care of her walked by and watched as she got up and took a few unsteady steps, with Loker's arm around her.

"I get that you're stubborn and probably won't listen to a thing I say. But for god's sake...stay in bed for a day," he reminded her. "You lost a lot of blood tonight and the arm's going to be very sore for some time. Give it time to heal, keep it in the sling to make it easier on the muscles and take the pills. Don't try to be tough."

Funny, that he suspected she might.

"You also need to book a follow-up appointment with your primary care physician." He'd turned to Loker. "Make sure she does, will you?"

"Got it."

"I hope so."

She felt lightheaded and winded after she got out of the wheelchair they made her sit in. The doctor was still watching her and she gave him a forced smile.

_I am not spending the night here. No matter how many concerned looks you give me._

She let Loker help her into a taxi. Let herself close her eyes and exhale once they left the hospital driveway and she could finally stop pretending.

"Lightman keeps calling me," Loker told her, sitting in the back seat next to her. "What do you want me to say?"

_How about you just turn off your damn phone? _

"Tell him I'm fine."

"Okay."

Loker being Loker didn't quite have the nerve to call Cal while he was sitting in the car with her and Gillian couldn't muster the energy for small-talk with him. Thankfully, he sensed as much and they spent the rest of the ride in silence.

He paid the taxi driver and walked her to the door when they reached her townhouse.

"Can I help you with anything inside?"

Gillian shook her head. She couldn't remember the last time she needed solitude so desperately.

"Have you even eaten anything since lunch?" he pressed. "It's not like you're gonna be able to prepare anything for yourself with your arm like that..."

"Loker," she cut him off. "I'm fine. Just tired. No food. I want to go home and...sleep."

"Sure," he answered. "I understand."

"Thanks," she added. "For doing this for me. You know, going to the ER and..."

"Don't mention it, and, Foster..." There was a genuine kindness in his smile. "I didn't just do it 'cause Lightman told me to. I want you to know that."

His words almost brought fresh tears to her eyes. Not that it took much to trigger them tonight. "I know." Underneath it all, Eli Loker was a good guy. One more thing Cal Lightman never took the time to appreciate.

"Take care of yourself," he added. "Let us help you, okay?"

Gillian nodded. "Good night, Loker."

She closed the door behind her and dropped her purse to the floor. Her earlier tiredness was a bone-weary exhaustion now. Whatever injection they'd given her for the pain a few hours earlier was starting to wear off and her arm throbbed defiantly.

She dragged herself into the kitchen, grabbed a glass and turned on the tap, filling it to the top with water.

She emptied the white bag from the pharmacy with the two containers of pills inside, hoping that whatever was inside one of them would dull the pain and let her sleep. She couldn't remember the last time she wanted to sink into oblivion as badly as she did tonight.

Gillian tried to open the bottle with one hand, grimacing when it slipped out of her hand and flew across the kitchen instead. She went to pick it up, leaning against the kitchen counter when that act caused a wave of dizziness to wash over her. She closed her eyes and waited until it passed before trying again. And again.

She even tried using her teeth until she finally realized her efforts were futile. The little plastic, child-proof container was designed for people with two able hands.

She could call Loker. He wasn't far. He'd come back. Gillian knew that with certainty.

Or maybe even knock on her neighbour's door to see if they could give her a hand. After all, she'd need to take the antibiotics at one point.

But it was the middle of the night and she couldn't bring herself to do either of them.

Instead, she tossed the container against her wall in anger as hot, fresh tears flooded her eyes.

She couldn't quite decide what hurt more.

That there was no one else to call. Or that it was her best friend who did this.

_Is this what my life has become? _

Gillian walked over to her sofa, sat down and folded her legs underneath her, curling into herself while trying to shield her arm. The tears turned into sobs and her entire body shook as they took hold of her.

She held herself and cried. Wept for what felt like hours, until at last she ran out of tears and fell into a restless sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Big, fat thanks again to GDA, for proof-reading. :)

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><p><strong>Chapter 4 <strong>

_Lightman residence_

Emily's face was sheepish. She wrinkled her nose as she tried to read her father.

"What did you do now?" she probed, knowing instinctively that he'd done something. And that it wasn't good.

Cal's daughter was sitting on a barstool in the kitchen pantry, her laptop open in front of her and a slew of paper scattered all around it.

Cal stared at her, not answering. Instead, he saw his phone beeping and answered it with lightning speed when he saw Eli's number on the other end.

_"I'm at the hospital. The docs want to do a transfusion but Foster doesn't want to."_

"Why not?"

_"I don't know...I think she just wants to go home." _

Cal exhaled. So he wasn't an MD but he'd seen with his own two eyes what happened tonight. Had seen how much blood she'd lost. Figured that trying to tough it out and letting the body recover on its own was a seriously lousy idea.

"Well, convince her otherwise!"

_"I can't force her!" _

"Just make her see reason for god's sake. Don't just stand there and nod your head like a lap dog!"

_"Last time I checked she was still my boss and she's your partner, not mine." _

Cal exhaled. He had a point. Gillian was his best friend, not Loker's. "Can you just try and convince her? For her sake not mine."

_"Okay...I'll try." _

"Loker?"

_"Yeah?" _

"Thanks...for staying with her."It's all he had it in him to muster. He didn't wait for Loker to say anything else before ending the call.

"Dad?" Emily got off the barstool and stood next to him now, having followed the conversation. "What's going on? Who were you talking about?"

Cal eyed his daughter. Saw the worry on her young face. He didn't want to have this conversation. Didn't want to relive that moment again.

_His angry fist hitting the book shelf. The scythe tumbling down. The blade slicing into her arm._

Emily moved to put her arms around him, because she loved him and because she wore her heart on her sleeve. Like someone else he knew and loved. "Something's wrong isn't it?"

He sat down on the barstool, letting his shoulders sink with the weight of the day's events. "Yeah..."

Cal also let her pour him a glass of wine and then, after drinking half of it, he told her what happened.

Emily let out a gasp when he mentioned the worst of it. The blade. The blood. Foster looking at him as though he was something she wanted to flush from her system.

"Is she... going to be okay?"

Okay was a relative term. "I don't know...Loker's with her at the hospital. She wouldn't let me..." He couldn't quite finish. Part of him still wanted to drive there regardless of what Gillian had told him. Regardless of how furious she was with him.

He needed to be there. _Needed_ to know.

"Dad..." she put an arms around him from the back, pensively resting her chin on one of his shoulders. "It was an accident...I'm sure she knows that."

"No," he told her, not willing to let himself take that route. "A gust of wind is an accident, Em. Whacking a book shelf isn't."

"But it's not like you meant for _that_ to happen! Gillian knows you'd never hurt her. "

_Does she?_

"Dad, " His perpetually upbeat daughter looked inconsolable. "You have to fix this. Have to make it right."

Cal returned her hug. "I know." He set down his glass of wine. "Em...do me a favour?"

"What?"

"I know you have school tomorrow, but will you go see her after your classes? Make sure she's okay?"

Emily nodded, relieved by the notion that there was something tangible that could be done. Because something was better than nothing.

"For sure."

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><p><em>Foster Residence <em>

_The next day _

Gillian was still on the sofa when she heard someone knocking on the door. She had no idea what time it was. She rarely wore a watch and her cell phone was out of reach. But she guessed it was already afternoon.

She hadn't slept well. Her arm hurt too much and now her entire body felt sore. She probably looked the part too, still wearing the clothes she'd worn on the way home from the hospital yesterday.

There was another knock. Louder this time.

Cal, she figured.

Gillian didn't budge.

His guilty face was the last thing she wanted to see right now. She knew that this was killing him. Had seen as much all over his face yesterday. She might not have had his skill for reading micro-expressions, but the guilt, regret and self-loathing written all over him would've been hard for anyone to miss.

Right now she didn't care. Instead, she hoped that her lack of a response would make him give up and go away.

There was one more knock. Even louder this time.

_Get lost, Cal. _

It was then that she heard a key turning in the lock of her door as it slowly opened.

Gillian cringed. Of course. How could she forget? He had a key to her place. Just as she had a key to his.

It was something they'd done years ago. His idea. Just in case, he'd told her. They got involved with too many criminal elements in their line of work, not to take every precaution. Strangely enough he hadn't insisted on having access to Loker or Torres' homes.

"Gillian?" she heard a familiar young woman's voice coming from the doorway. "Are you home?"

She wasn't ready for visitors but at least it wasn't Cal. At least he knew her well enough to know she wouldn't take kindly to him barging into her home today.

"Hi, Emily," she acknowledged with resignation when she saw the young woman's face from the hallway.

Cal's daughter offered her a cautious smile. "Hi, Gillian." She held up a large brown, paper bag. "I brought you some food."

Emily took off her shoes before coming into her living room. Polite and considerate. Gillian marvelled sometimes how it was possible that half of the girl's genes came from Cal Lightman.

_That's one thing you got right, Cal. You did good by Emily. Really good. _

Emily sat down on the couch next to her. "I'm sorry I just came barging into your house. Dad told me what happened. I was worried and when you didn't answer..."

Gillian eyed her. No phony small talk. She had to admit she liked that. It was very Cal Lightman of her. "He sent you," she told her.

Emily nodded. "Yeah...but after what he told me, I would have come anyway."

A lop-sided smile lifted her lips. "You're sweet, Emily. But I'm fine, really."

"You don't..." Emily paused in mid-conversation, much like she did sometimes. "Look so fine."

Gillian probably didn't have the grounds to argue against that.

Emily's gaze was downcast and she fiddled with a beaded bracelet on her wrist. "Dad feels terrible about what happened..." she mumbled.

Gillian exhaled. She didn't want to have this conversation. Not yet. "I know."

"He wants to see you. Tell you himself."

Gillian bit her lip.

_Damn you. For putting her in this position. Why did you even have to tell her? _

"I know..." she told her. "I know you want things to be okay with me and your dad, but I'm not going to lie to you and say they are. They're not."

It wasn't what Emily wanted to hear and Gillian could see the disappointment written all over her face.

"You mean the world to him, Gill..."

Gillian closed her eyes.

_He's got a hell of a way of showing it._

"Em..." she said softly, "I don't want to talk about this. Please."

"Okay." Emily nodded. Understanding. "So...are you hungry? I brought lots of food. How about some coffee?"

"I'd love some coffee and something to eat." On top of everything she was starving.

Emily made her way into her kitchen. Started brewing fresh coffee for both of them until its aroma filled the living room. Then she picked up and opened the containers of medication that Gillian had thrown against the wall in frustration last night and brought them to her.

"Should you be taking these?"

Gillian nodded. "Yeah..." Aside from the antibiotics, she really could use something for the pain. The doctor hadn't been kidding when he said it would be bad.

"I'll get you some water."

After reading the instructions and handing her one pill from each container Emily left them both on the table. "I'm going to leave these open for you, okay?"

"Thanks."

After all that, she sat down on the couch next to Gillian and turned on the TV, while eating dinner with her in silence. Stir-fried vegetables, chicken, rice.

Then before getting ready to leave, she helped her clean up and change into something more comfortable before giving her a hug; one that took special care not to brush against her injured arm.

She did all of it as if it were the most natural thing in the world and it almost made Gillian cry again.

"Thanks, Em."

"I put some more food in the fridge, 'cause I figured you weren't up for cooking yet. I hope you like Asian. There's pad thai and some beef and veggies. I got some pastries from Michel's too. I left them in a bag on the kitchen counter. The almond croissants came fresh out of the oven."

"Can I give you anything for all this?"

"No way. I'm billing Dad for this, don't worry."

Emily gave her another hug and then she wrote down a phone number on a piece of paper. "This is my cell number. In case you don't already have it. If there's anything you need...like a driver for a grocery run...or someone to take you to a doctor or a cook or..._anything_ really."

"Emily..."

"I mean it," she said firmly. "My dad's not the only one who cares about you, you know."

Gillian nodded, able to fight back her tears this time. "Okay."

A conspiratorial wink came from her eyes before heading out the door. "Plus, it's not like he even has to know that you called me."


	5. Chapter 5

Once again, giant thanks to my proof reader and sounding board, GDA. And huge thanks always to those reading and taking the time to leave me your feedback!

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><p><strong>Chapter 5 <strong>

_Lightman Group _

Cal Lightman eyed the scene of destruction.

Everything was as he'd left last night.

The scythe and books on the floor. Scattered shards from the glass picture frame that had toppled over as well. Blood stains dotting everything. They were on his couch and on his desk phone too.

He surveyed it all and it made him feel nauseous. He needed to clean it up. There was an appointment with a potential client less than two hours from now. A woman who ran a law firm and had the potential to bring them a considerable amount of business.

Business they desperately needed.

"Lightman?"

Cal turned around to see Torres' head peeking into his office. Her face told him that Loker had given her just enough details to account for her sombre expression. "What is it?"

"Leslie Rotblatt called to say she wants to meet earlier. Are you and Foster able to..."

"Foster's not coming in today," he told her. "And Leslie Rotblatt can come by anytime she wants. Bring her to meet me in Foster's office when she does."

"Is..." Ria Torres hesitated. "Is Foster okay?"

"I don't know."

Torres gave him a look that suggested that answer didn't cut it, but he didn't offer her anything else.

"Is there anything I can do?"

"Yeah. Bring me a waste bag, a mop, soap and water, and a newspaper."

Torres eyed the damage for what was obviously the first time. It surprised Cal that she hadn't snuck in here earlier to check it out. Her insatiable curiosity was both an asset and an annoyance. To him and to the company.

"I can get one of the office cleaning ladies to..."

"No," he cut her off. "I'll do this myself."

"Okay," Torres mumbled, stepping back outside into the hallway.

When she came back, she brought him the supplies he asked for. "Can _I_ help you?"

"No."

Cal waited until she left before picking up the scythe from the floor. Just seeing it brought it all back. The way she looked at him. Her voice.

_"It hurts, Cal."_

He looked at it in disgust, wrapping it in the newspaper Torres brought him before throwing it into the garbage bag.

_It's not the blade that hurt her. I did. _

Cal swept the glass shards into a dust pan and tossed them into the garbage bag as well before he started scrubbing the floor with soap and water.

When he was done with everything he sat down at his desk and looked around. His bookshelf looked more bare than it did before and there were still stains on his sofa. Getting rid of those would be harder. He might have to consider a cover instead. Or a new sofa. But aside from that, he'd erased what happened. On the surface anyway.

If only the rest where as easy to clean up.

Cal thought back to the events that brought them to last night.

The cop that Internal Affairs had asked them to help investigate. The arrogant slime bag who thought he had everyone fooled, and had the nerve to mock him when Cal couldn't prove that he'd been responsible for killing a fourteen-year old wannabe-gangster.

Gillian had agreed with him about the man. Had seen, and heard, much of the same things he had.

But she'd accepted that to the police their science wasn't enough proof. Whereas Cal hadn't. He'd gone to punch the guy's lights out in a police station when he saw mocking in his face on top of everything else.

As a result, Internal Affairs had fired them from the case and the cop had the audacity to slap the Lightman Group with a lawsuit that threatened to shut down the company.

He thought back to that night.

Gillian had been so pissed with him then.

_"Tell me you're kidding. Tell me this is your twisted idea of a joke...tell me you didn't actually punch Samson at the police station?" _

_"A teenager is dead, Gill! And this guy, this cop who's getting paid with our tax dollars to uphold the law... has the nerve to mock me when I walk by him. Doesn't that part bother just a little bit?" _

_"So you really did it..." Shock and disbelief were all over her face. "You punched him. Repeatedly." Accusation lined her features that night. "What the hell is wrong with you, Cal?" _

Apparently that had been a hypothetical question. Because she hadn't given him a chance to answer. Deciding to storm out of his office and slam the door behind her instead.

That was after the lay-offs the week before, and before the psych evaluation his own attorney suggested he take, supposed proof for the prosecution that he wasn't a total loose cannon. Wasn't completely insane.

As if a couple of interviews and questionnaires could make _that_ decision.

Cal cupped his chin in the palm of his hand.

For most of his life he'd feared the he might have inherited his mother's fragile mental state. Or worse, passed it on to Emily, who proved him wrong nearly every day by being the most laid-back, well-adjusted kid he could ever have asked for.

_What I really should have worried about was turning into my father._

The alcoholic father with the violent streak. The father who liked to slap him around just because he could.

_Is that what I do?_

He'd been called a bully more than once. An arrogant bully who did what he did because he liked to get a rise out of people. What most of them didn't know was that in order for his science to work, _in order to elicit genuine emotions_, you had to push buttons. You had to put people on the defensive. It was the only way to get at the truth sometimes. Foster was one of the few people who understood that. She wouldn't have backed him up as often as she did if she didn't.

_Or would she? _

He'd sworn to himself that he'd never lay a hand on the people he loved. He'd give his right arm before he'd ever touch Emily or Zoe in anger.

Or Gillian.

What he did do was vent his rage on inanimate objects. Like walls and hoods of cars. And those who deserved it. Like that slime bag masquerading as a cop.

The anger from his youth was still there. Always would be. But he'd become a master at directing it away from those he cared for. Using it for good even.

Cal Lightman sighed, wondering if that was really the truth. Or if he'd managed to deceive the best lie detection expert in the world.


	6. Chapter 6

Once again, huge thanks to my proof reader GDA!

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><p><strong>Chapter 6<strong>

_Lightman Group _

_Four days later_

It was early morning when she came into the office for the first time in five days. So early that there was no one here yet. The hallways were still dark and the sun was just now making a visible appearance outside.

She left it that way, not bothering to turn on the lights, wanting to savour the first beams of sunlight instead.

In spite of what happened, it hadn't been her intention to stay away this long. It wasn't her style to run away from a problem. Nor was having an arm in a sling cause enough to stay home for five days in her books. As Cal liked to point out every now and then; she was tougher than she looked.

But then there was the fever that came after Emily left, hitting her with the knock-out punch. Kept her in bed for two days straight with barely enough energy to brew a cup of coffee.

It didn't really surprise her. After the weeks of stress and tension at the Lightman Group, followed by the lawsuit that threatened to shut them down and topped with the brand new gash in her arm, even her robust immune system had to wave the white flag. You didn't need a doctorate in psychology to know that that kind of stress made you sick. Literally.

Gillian sat down at her desk and leaned back in her chair, as she stared out the window thinking it was probably for the best. If nothing else, all those hours alone in her bedroom gave her time to think.

Emily had come by again the day before yesterday, even though Gillian hadn't called her.

_"I got worried when you didn't call," was the explanation she got when Cal's daughter stood in her hallway again, another food-filled paper bag in hand. _

_Gillian had given her another lop-sided smile. Both Lightmans had an uncanny way of defeating her. "Do I usually call you every day, Em?" _

_Shoes had politely come off again as she'd traipsed into the living room. "No...but you also don't usually ignore my Dad's messages for two days straight, turning him into a pacing tiger in a cage who's absolutely impossible to be around. Someone's gotta be the adult here. It's my sanity that's at stake."_

_"Good to know you have your priorities straight." _

_Emily had rolled her eyes. "You look awful, Gillian. You should have called. But you're just as stubborn as Dad." Then she'd opened the paper bag in her hand. "I had a hunch that maybe you weren't feeling so great. Chicken pho?" _

_So she sat on the couch again, watching TV and eating Vietnamese noodle soup with Emily Lightman. _

_They didn't say much. Emily didn't probe as to why she hadn't answered her father's calls or ask what was really going on between them. _

_But Gillian would have been lying if she said she didn't enjoy the company._

The sun was rising higher now, slowly bathing the entire city in light.

She'd miss her, Gillian realized. Not just Emily. Everyone. But mostly him.

In spite of all the frustration and the headaches of the last few months, the Lightman Group and its namesake had been such a huge part of her life, that leaving it would leave behind a gaping whole that she had no idea how to fill. Wasn't even sure she wanted to fill it with something else. _Someone _else.

But things had to change and this was the only way she knew how. If she stayed and let things go on they way they did, then maybe they'd have nothing left to salvage in the end.

_That_ possibility scared her even more.

"Morning, luv..."

Gillian turned around, stunned to see Cal Lightman standing in the doorframe, a dark silhouette against the first light of day bursting through her window. She hadn't expected to see him so soon. He was never here this early. She'd hoped that she'd have some more time. To watch the sun rise. To think about what she'd say. To think about _how_ she'd say it.

"Hi..."

He came towards her as she stood up, a myriad of emotions on his face. "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine."

"Em says you were sick."

"I was, but I'm alright now."

His gaze went to her arm. "How is...?"

"It's okay. It's healing." It was the truth. It was. It still hurt but it wasn't nearly as bad as the first two days when the pain had kept her up at night. She'd gone to the doctor yesterday and changed the dressing. It looked more like a giant band-aid than the heavy bandaging she'd left the hospital with five days ago.

He was standing next to her now. "Can I see?"

Gillian didn't say anything as his fingers gently pushed back the sleeves on her blouse, exposing the strip on her arm. His hand cupped her wrist as he eyed it with a frown.

"Is there a chance of scarring?"

"Some yes. But the docs said it would be minimal."

"If you need to do something cosmetic to fix it. I don't care if it's not covered...I don't want you to hesitate to..."

"Cal..." Gillian took hold of his arm and moved it away from the bandage. "Stop it."

He lowered his eyes, still standing close enough that she could hear his breathing. It bothered a lot of people. His habit of getting into their personal space. For some reason it had never bothered her. She'd always liked him there. In her space.

Strangely enough, it still held true. Even now. After everything.

"I'm so sorry, luv."

Gillian acknowledged it with a nod. "I know."

Guilt was etched on his face. "Whatever it takes to fix it..."

"Cal," she stopped him. "It was an accident." If he could reverse what happened and slash the blade through his own arm instead, he'd do it in a heartbeat. She knew him well enough to know that. Not that she was ready to tell him as much.

"No," he corrected her. "It wasn't an accident. I know that."

Gillian sighed. "Alright...so you hit bookshelf. But I'm sure you didn't plan for that...thing to come flying down. Or for me to stand right underneath it." She eyed him, not sure she'd ever seen him look quite so uncertain about anything.

"I shouldn't have hit that bloody shelf, there was no reason."

Gillian shrugged. She wasn't going to argue that one.

"You wouldn't even let me come to the hospital with you..."

"I was angry," she admitted. "Months of fighting with you, every single day and then one of your...damn artefacts cuts my arm open. Yeah, I was angry that night, Cal. So angry that I couldn't think straight."

"And now?"

She could see the doubt in his eyes now. The knowledge that something else was coming and that there were still traces of anger in her eyes.

"Truth? I'm still angry."

He nodded, saying nothing, but understanding.

"But I've also had a chance to think about things."

"Think about things?" He looked at her, trying to read her.

She hated when he did that, but she didn't blame him this time. She'd probably have done the same if she were in his shoes and the tables were turned.

"I thought about us. About the Lightman Group..." She thought that maybe her anger would make this easy, but it didn't. "I decided...that it's time for me to leave."


	7. Chapter 7

Giant thanks for my awesome proofreader! You know who you are! ;)

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><p><strong>Chapter 7<strong>

_Lightman Group Building _

Of all the things he might have expected.

This wasn't it. He hadn't expected the resignation that was written all over her face.

He'd expected anger. Bitterness. Frustration. Hurt.

He'd expected her to tell him what a jerk he'd been and that she wouldn't put up with it anymore. He'd expected to nod and agree in return. To beg and plead and do whatever it took. And to be grateful in the end, that no matter what had happened she was here this morning. She was going to be okay and she was here, by his side, where she'd been for almost a decade.

Because he couldn't quite imagine his life without those two variables. Gillian being alright. Gillian by his side.

Instead, she stood there, across from him and did that little thing with her lips, that thing where she stopped just short of biting them. She did it when she was nervous. Apologetic even.

"You want to leave," he repeated. "You want some time off." Maybe for once he was wrong. Maybe that's all she meant. "Yeah, of course...take as much time as..."

"Cal," she cut him off. "That not what I meant." Then added softly. "You know it's not."

_Yell at me. Hit me. Throw something. Come on, Gill. I deserve it. Get out your anger and your frustration and we'll deal with it. _

"You want a leave of absence. Alright, we'll find a way to make it work."

"Cal..." she put an arm on his shoulder. "I need to leave the Lightman Group. For good. For me...for you, for the company and our sanity."

"No, no..." he shook his head. "I get that you're angry, you're hurt...but I _don't _believe you want to leave everything we've built up together."

"So suddenly it's _our_ company again?"

He met her eyes and saw something else besides resignation now. She wasn't lying when she said she was still angry. "It's always been our company," he said softly. "Just because I'm a plonker who never acknowledges it, doesn't mean it isn't."

She lowered her shoulders, accepting that apology at least. "For months now, all we've been doing is fighting. Every single day...I come into this office and we argue. I'm not saying it's just you, it's both of us, but I can't do it anymore. And yes...getting my arm sliced open because you can't control your anger, that was the last straw."

"What do you want me to do, Gill? You want me to fill out that psych evaluation for our lawyer? Fine. Done. You want more than that? Fine...I'll do it. Maybe you're right, maybe it's time I took a bloody look in the mirror and admit some things I should have admitted a long time ago. You're not the only one who's had time to think these last five days. I get it, Gill...things need to change, but at least give me a_ chance_ to change them! Don't just come here and tell me you're giving up!"

Gillian moved away from the window and sat down in her desk chair. "I think...the only chance for things to really change is if I leave."

"Wait a minute..."

"If I stay," she cut in. "Maybe things will change for a few days...a few weeks even, but then they'll go right back to where they were. You and I both know that."

He shook his head, vehemently. "No...that's not true." Truth was that the image of that night, of her blood soaking up his shirt, _had _changed him. In a way that nothing else could have. That image would haunt him for the rest of his life.

She half smiled. "See...we're arguing already."

Gillian toyed with one of her pens. Another nervous habit. "Cal...I'm too angry to stay here right now. I need to get that out of my system just as you need to deal with whatever...it is that you need to deal with." She'd dropped the pen she was holding and flinched. Cal's heart skipped a beat when he saw her reaction.

"I don't want to stay and have us end up hating each other."

There were tears at the edge of her blue eyes now. She wasn't doing this to hurt him. That was the irony of it all. He who deserved whatever daggers she might want to toss at him was being shielded from her own anger.

Truth was, when it came to him she was lousy at being selfish. She'd always been proud of his skills and his accomplishments. Was happy to let him take all the acclaim. All the time.

That realization hit him now too.

But fact was, they both knew that without her this company was in even more serious trouble than it already was.

_All these years, I had the best partner I could've asked for and I screwed it up. _

The notion that he wasn't just losing her, but that without her the Lightman Group was probably screwed too, was making him feel sick. Losing her would be putting the final nail in the coffin of his company.

He'd punched a bookshelf in anger and as a result his entire world was falling apart.

"Take some time off, take as much time as you need," he repeated, pleading now. "But don't quit. I get I'm not in a position to ask for a favour, Gill. But for all the years we spent building this place up together. For all the years of..." He wanted to say more. For a second he even debated telling her the whole damn truth. That he loved her. Wanted her in his life in every possible way. But he knew it would've sounded hollow just now. Would've sounded like a desperate last ditch effort, rather than the truth that it was. "For all the years of our... _friendship_. I'm asking you to give me some time."

He could see the conflict written all over her face.

She knew that he could see it too, and for once it made him wish that he couldn't.

Because this time it only made her more defiant.

"I'm sorry, Cal but I've made up my mind."


	8. Chapter 8

Big thanks to my speedy proofreader, GDA! And to all those reading and taking the time to leave me your feedback! Always appreciated.

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><p><strong>Chapter 8<strong>

_Lightman Group, Washington DC _

_"I'm sorry Cal, but I've made up my mind."_

It took a while for her words to sink in. Because he knew she meant them. Because after she said them he knew that pleading and begging and reasoning were pointless.

"I see."

"I'd like to hand over the bulk of my responsibilities to Torres. I think she's up for it."

Cal nodded, dumbfounded. "Sure."

She looked past him, around the room. "I also think she'd love to have this office. It's your decision but I thought I'd suggest..."

"It's _your_ office," he mumbled.

"Cal..."

"I can't pay you out," he added. Other things were starting to add up now too. The logistics that went beyond his world coming apart at the seams.

"I know."

In hindsight it was a stupid thing to point out to her. She was more aware of their finances than he'd ever been. It was one more thing he'd taken for granted. He who barely had the money to pay their current employees might now have to hire an accountant.

"I didn't ask you to," she added.

"It's your company too, Gill. Everything in this building is half yours."

"I know," she agreed once more. "I also know you're in no position to pay me out."

No, that wasn't entirely true. "I have a house I can remortgage." He could even sell the damn thing and move into something smaller. God knows he'd only kept it for Emily after Zoe left him. And now that she was moving out west for college, did he really need a giant five-bedroom house for himself? It was almost obscene given the dire state of his company. _Their_ company.

"I can remain part owner of the Lightman Group," she pointed out. "Without having to work in it."

"If I don't pay you out now, there's a good chance..."

"That it'll never happen," she finished for him. "If they win this lawsuit the Lightman Group is finished and you'll declare bankruptcy."

Of course she knew. "You'll get screwed if..."

"Yeah, I'll get screwed. We all will. Everyone working under this roof," she reminded him. "Me being here won't change that fact."

_You being here would decrease our chances of a bankruptcy._

"If the Group goes bankrupt you're left with nothing," was what he said instead. "So let me at least try to find a way..."

"If you don't want that." She cut him off again. "Then...find a way for the company _not _to go bankrupt."

Cal swallowed. It was pointless. He knew that, but he had to try just once more. "Don't go, Gill. Stay. _Please_."

One glance at her face told him she hated that he was pushing. Hated that he didn't make this any easier for her. But how the hell was he supposed to let go without so much as a fight? If the tables were turned she'd put up a fight for him. _Wouldn't she?_

"I can't..."

"I'll do whatever if takes to fix this," he repeated, needing her to believe it.

"Cal," she reached over to put her arm on his and it was the emptiness and the resignation in her eyes that killed him. Anger, fury, frustration...he could've handled all of those. But not this. "I need to leave. I don't care about the money. If you mean it about not wanting to leave me with nothing. If you..." She paused and this time it was her trying to read him. "If you _really _mean it about wanting to change...then do what you can to fight this lawsuit and keep this company going. For both of us."

Cal exhaled. He kept telling her he'd do whatever it took to fix things.

But again, he hadn't expected this. This wasn't about taking a long look in the mirror.

Now it was about saving the one thing that still bound them together. The Lightman Group.

_And if I can salvage that then maybe..._

"Alright," he agreed letting her know he meant it on both counts. That he'd try his damndest. And that he understood that he'd lost the battle to keep her. That he'd lost it five nights ago when he banged his hand into a bookcase.

She nodded a silent thank you.

He probably should've left her office then. Given her some space and time.

But he'd be damned if he was going to end this on a handshake. This wasn't a bloody intern he barely knew. It was Gillian standing across from him.

He put his arms around her and held her close.

If he couldn't convince her with words, he could at least show her much she meant to him. How much he'd miss her.

Knowing how angry she still was, he half expected her to push him away.

But she didn't. Instead, she buried her face in his shoulders and held on to him just as tightly. Her hair felt soft and warm against his cheek and it flooded him with regret.

_For months and months, I neglected this company. Neglected our friendship. Stopped taking care of us. We were stressed and overworked and I was angry all the time. Stupidly I assumed that you'd always be around and I'd have time. _

_Time to figure out how to tell you that you mean the world to me. _

"I'm sorry, luv," he whispered into her ear, his arms enveloping her, wishing he could find a way to keep her there forever. Warm, close and safe.

She didn't say a word in return and Cal wasn't sure how long he held on to her like that.

But he knew that it wasn't long enough.


	9. Chapter 9

As always, huge thanks to my awesome proof reader, GDA.

On a somewhat unrelated note, I finally took the Twitter plunge last week! Mostly to try out the format and partly to use it as a vehicle to shamelessly promote my fics and to give you excuses when there's no updates. And of course to gush about Lie to Me and rant about life.

Any and all followers are welcome! Except Wallowski fans (kidding!). My handle is Roadrunnerz_28

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><p><strong>Chapter 9<strong>

_Lightman Group Offices_

Later, when the sun was long up, she walked into the lab and saw them huddled together. Coffees in hand and snacking on a muffin, while eyeing a computer screen.

Gillian bit back a smile. She'd miss them too.

Ria Torres and Eli Loker. The natural and the budding scientist.

"Do you think she's coming back?" she heard Torres asking him. Their backs were to her and neither of them heard her entering the room, thanks to the soft hum of all the electronics.

"I wouldn't," Loker announced and Gillian didn't miss the disgust in his voice. "You weren't there that night...you didn't see all that...blood everywhere. It was awful. She looked like she wanted to kill him."

Gillian swallowed, feeling a suffocating warmth rising up in her throat. Part of her wanted to leave before they saw her.

"But what exactly happened?" Torres asked softly. "He wouldn't even let me help him clean it up yesterday. Insisted on doing it himself."

"I don't know...by the time I got there she was lying on the couch and had his shirt wrapped around her arm." Loker shrugged. "Mind you, as insane and intolerable as he's been lately...I don't think he'd hurt Foster on purpose. He's crazy about her. Even if he won't admit it."

"What I wouldn't give to have been a fly on the..." Torres pondered.

Gillian exhaled. Being a fly on the wall wasn't all it was cracked up to be. She'd heard as much as she wanted to hear without them knowing. "Good morning."

The sound of her voice startled them both. Loker turned around so fast he spilled half his coffee on his lap. Torres' eyes widened and she let out a gasp.

"Jesus Christ...you scared me." Loker jumped up as the hot liquid seeped through his jeans.

"You okay?" Gillian asked him, genuinely concerned.

"Yeah, yeah..." He scrunched up his wet pants and grimaced, making his way out of the room. To the men's room, she guessed, leaving Torres to face her alone.

Embarrassment clouded Ria's face. "Foster..."

"Hi, Ria."

"How much...did you hear?"

Gillian didn't even debate her answer. It was nearly as pointless to lie to her as it was to lie to Cal. "Enough."

"I'm sorry..." Torres offered. "We had no idea you were here. You haven't been here the last five..."

"Hey..." Gillian sat down across from her, letting her know she had no intentions of a lecture. "It's okay...you don't have to explain. You have a right to know what's going on. With us...with the company."

Still, there was a guilty look on Ria's face. "I'm too nosy...Lightman tells me all the time."

Gillian smiled. "Lightman knows it's one of your best assets. Trust me."

Ria was serious. "How are _you_?"

"I'm alright." Gillian could see the younger woman reading her, trying to gauge whether it was an honest answer. Could see her face relax when she decided it was.

"I'm glad...that you're back. It's not the same here when you're not around. Lightman he's...I mean, he always difficult but at least..."

"I'm not coming back," Gillian interrupted. "I came her because I wanted to say good-bye. In person."

"What?" Torres looked shocked. "You can't leave!"

"Things need to change and I don't think they will if I stay."

"If you leave the only thing that will change is Lightman will be even more..."

Gillian saw her hesitation. Hesitation to say something unflattering about Cal, to her of all people.

For years she'd made no secret that her loyalty was always with Lightman. Gillian was convinced it had to be that way for the Lightman Group to work. For the employees to have faith in their science and their leadership. Like parents, they had to put up a united front.

Even if lately it had been a lie. One that Torres probably saw right through.

"Impossible. He'll be even more impossible," Torres finished.

"He'll be fine."

Torres gave her a _who-are-you-kidding_ look. "No, he's not...he's not fine now! Without you to keep things balanced he'll be..."

"Ria, trust me."

"You seriously think he'll change? If _you _can't take it anymore. You, the only person he'll actually listen to, then there's no hope for the rest of us! Is there even going to be a Lightman Group for much longer?"

"I'd like to think so."

"Yeah, right."

"Hey...since when do you back down from a challenge?"

Ria Torres looked as though she wanted to ask her the same question. Among a few others. "Are you sure you're okay?"

This time she did pause before answering.

"No...not really," she confessed. "But I'll figure things out. Ria...there's something else. I suggested to Cal that you take over some of my responsibilities at the Group. I think you're ready for it, if you want to, that is."

"Ready? Are you kidding me? Who in the world could be ready for filling your shoes here?" She caught a flicker of sadness in the young woman's eyes before Torres got up to put her arms around her. "Oh, Gillian, I'm going to miss you. We all are."

"Me too," Gillian admitted, returning her hug. "I'll miss you too."

* * *

><p><em>First District Police Station, Washington DC<em>

The police chief didn't look amused.

"This better be important, Dr. Lightman," she told him, crossing her arms as she stood behind her desk. "I can't keep the mayor waiting to have an impromptu chat with you."

"You know one of your officers is suing me and the Lightman Group. An officer that we were hired to help investigate..."

"I heard you gave him good reason."

Lightman bit his tongue. "I want you to get him to drop the law suit."

She raised her brows. "That lawsuit is none of my business and if you called me in here thinking I'd discuss that, then I have nothing to say to you..."

"Samson was dirty. You and I both know that."

"We were about to prove it until you decided to bash his head in. You're lucky he decided not to press assault charges."

"No, you were about to drop the investigation because internal affairs couldn't get their act together and come up with enough evidence. And because our science wasn't enough proof for you. Not because I punched the guy," he corrected her.

The police chief raised her hands into the air. "What's the point of this conversation, Dr. Lightman? Is there a point to you coming in here and rehashing this whole mess for me?"

"I came here," he said softly. "Because I want to make a deal with your police force."

"A deal?"

"Convince Samson to drop the lawsuit and you can have the services of the Lightman Group on a retainer. Free of charge for one year."

She lowered her hands and met his gaze.

Finally, he had her full attention.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

_One month later _

She cleared out her office that same morning, after saying good-bye to Loker and Torres and a handful of other remaining employees.

It hadn't taken long.

She left the building with one box that Loker carried to her car for her. It held her personal lap-top, a small, framed picture she bought on a whim at the Eastern Market, two coffee mugs, an engraved pen that a client had given her and a dozen or so textbooks. Although truthfully, after all her time at the Lightman Group she'd long forgotten which books were hers and which were Cal's. They always shared all their resources and as a result, she probably left behind some of hers and took some of his.

One box. After nearly ten years.

Gillian Foster had looked at it sitting in her car and it made her sad.

_Ten years of my life and that's all I'm taking with me._

It's funny, that the others at the Group always thought of her as the sentimental one. Yet when it came to belongings, that label really belonged to Cal Lightman. He was the one with all the family photos on his desk. Half a dozen photos of Emily from toddler to teenager. A shelf full of travel memorabilia from his dissertation days. A bottle of liquor in a crystal carafe. A leather sofa and blanket. There was even a photo of a dog he used to own. A pesky little pug named Isabel.

Cal's office was an extension of his home.

Hers was a work space. Neat, tidy and easily disassembled.

There had been no photos on her desk when she cleared it out. Not since she took down the one of her and Alec, smiling and happy on a sunny Sunday afternoon in DC.

When she arrived home she took the lap-top out of the box and left the rest of the contents in the car.

Back then her excuse had been that it was too heavy to carry with her still injured arm.

Now, a month later, that excuse no longer applied but the box still sat in the back seat of her car.

She stayed home for a few days after that. A few days of cocooning and recovering and ignoring the telephone, to watch all the movies and read all the books she'd never had time for anymore.

Then she went to a travel agent, stared at the posters on the wall and booked a trip to the first place that caught her eye.

Rome. Ten days.

She checked herself into a small hotel on a side street, not far from the busy Via dei Fori Imperiali and decided to do every touristy thing her guidebook suggested.

She toured the _Coliseo_. Spent three days at the Vatican exploring its museums. Climbed up the Cupola at St. Peter's, all three hundred and twenty steps, and basked in the glorious view of the city that greeted her when she got to the top. She sat on the Spanish Steps and met a chatty old Australian who insisted on buying her lunch and telling her stories of trekking through Papua New Guinea. She tossed a coin into the Trevi Fountain and wandered through the ruins that were only blocks from her hotel. She stepped into the Pantheon and ate gelato as she strolled along the banks of the Tiber. Had dinner at a different piazza nearly every night and finished two romance novels sitting on sunny cafe patios. Spent so many hours walking through endless side streets that she'd picked up a healthy tan and lost a few pounds, in spite of the copious amounts of pasta and pizza she indulged in.

And on her last evening in Rome, something steered her into an old stone church, hidden off yet another narrow street.

She wasn't particularly religious, but she lit a candle that night, and sat down on a pew, watching it burn in the dimly lit room.

She thought of him then, even though everything she'd done in the past nine days had been part of a concerted effort to put him out of her mind.

But that night she didn't fight it.

Sitting alone in that old church, Gillian let herself miss him. Part of her even wished that he was sitting next to her. In her personal space. Where he used to be. Where she thought he'd always be.

After coming back to DC, she listened to the messages Cal left her. Six in total.

-Hi, Foster. Don't really have a reason to call. Just wanted to say hi, see how you're doing. If you're up to letting me know, call me

-Still no reason. Other than to let you know the Lightman Group is still standing. Shockingly. We all miss you. _I miss you_

-Morning, Foster. Hope you're doing alright. Group is still is one piece, except Torres thinks she owns the place now. Go figure. At this rate there might be a name change soon and it'll be the Torres Group. Would love to see you, hear from you...anything really, that's got you in it

-Guess you're still not up for talking with me. S'alright, luv. Whenever you're ready. In case you haven't hit the erase button yet, thought you might like to know we got a new client last week. Leslie Rotblatt signed us on for a one-year contract. It's a big one. Celebratory dinner, yeah? I've got more good company news too. I'll even pick up the bill

-Forgot to add. You can pick the restaurant. If that helps you answer with a yes

-Hiya, Foster. So it's official. Em's going to Berkeley. No big surprise, my genes and all. She's way too excited to leave her Dad. It's nauseating really. Been a bit proud too, but don't tell her in case she stops by. Still missing you. Me that is, not Em. Well, Em is too...both of us are. Bloody hell, I'm rambling. Can't help it. Decent conversation's hard to come by at the office these days and at least your machine's got your voice on the other end. That and I look less mad talking to myself when there's a phone next to my ear.

She listened to each one and then deleted them all.

Even if the last one did make her smile.

Gillian left the city again the next day to spend some time with her mother. Let herself be spoiled like a teenager as she slept in and ate home-cooked meals before finally feeling like she was ready to go back and start her life over.

It had brought her here, to where she was sitting now, in this sparsely decorated office, wearing a suit and heels again, waiting for the man who was there to meet her. The man who would hopefully offer her the position she applied for.

He entered through the only door in the room, barred and stainless steel, and greeted her with a pleasant expression on his face. "Dr. Foster, so nice to finally meet you. Welcome to the DC Central Detention Facility."

_Lightman Group _

"Lightman...I need that space," Torres announced after barging into his office, unannounced, for the second time this morning. "I can't keep doing everything you've asked me to do on that tiny desk."

Cal raised a single eyebrow in her direction. "Have you learned about the concept of habituation yet?"

"What?"

"Habituation in the basic animal refers to the process of responding less strongly over time to repeated stimuli."

"What are you talking about?"

He straightened his back and levelled both eyes at hers. "Just because I no longer yell at you each time you barge into my office doesn't mean I enjoy it any more than when you did it the first time."

Her cheeks darkened. "I wouldn't have to barge into your office anymore if I had my own!"

"What's wrong with your work space?"

"For starters...it's not my own. It's full of Loker's crap! His ant farm takes up half of our desk!"

"Then get rid of it."

Ria Torres sighed. "There's an empty office next to yours."

"It's Foster's office."

"She cleared it out a month ago!"

"So?"

He watched her nostril's flare. Anger. No doubts about that one.

"If she comes back, I'll gladly vacate it again. Believe me...no one would rather have her back in there doing all the things that I'm now doing than me! But...until then. I'm either taking up that space or...I'm...I'm quitting!"

Cal observed her, enjoying the improbable mix of defiance and doubt, bravado and hesitance that he read all over her face. "Fine then."

It was an answer she didn't know what to make of. "Fine then what?"

"Fine," he said softly. "Take the office."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really."

She exhaled, surprised that was the extent of the battle. "Thanks."

Cal nodded his head.

Truth was, as much as he liked Torres, and he really did, in spite of the hard time he gave her, he hated the idea of anyone else occupying that office.

It was one thing to walk by and see it empty, but another altogether to walk by and see someone else in it. Not that he really had any choice in the matter. The last thing he could afford at this point was losing his "natural." Torres was an asset to the company. Probably his best one next to himself, now that Foster was gone.

Still. The thought of seeing her in Foster's office bothered him.

It hammered in the fact that she wasn't coming back.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: I know, right? It's been forever between updates and I really have no excuse other than the fact that I had a lot more time on my hands when I originally and foolishly started writing two stories at once. But I haven't given up on this one! So thanks for your patience. :)

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><p><strong>Chapter 11<strong>

_DC Central Detention Facility_

"I dare say that given the nature of much of what this job entails, you're uniquely qualified for it," the old man pointed out to her, not unkindly.

He was soft-spoken and his voice had a pleasant lilt. Gillian could envision him reading stories to a brood of grand-children. Not running one of DC's biggest prisons.

"Our prison system is overloaded," he went on. "Because of it we often release our inmates sooner than we should." He smiled. "But I don't need to tell you this. I assume you've done your reading before coming here."

Gillian didn't say anything. There was something else he was trying to get at, even if he was taking his time to do it.

"Yes, a great deal of the work our psychologists do here is therapy for the inmates. But another part is being involved in the decision process that grants some of them an early parole. Very often it's our psychologists who have the final word when it comes to determining the sincerity and mental stability of those we release back into the population."

"Right." Gillian agreed. She was fully aware of what the job entailed.

"And you, Dr. Foster, after all your years at the Lightman Group, are no doubt particularly skilled at detecting liars, wouldn't you agree?"

"I would."

"It's an invaluable skill for this position."

"But?" she asked. "There is a 'but' isn't there?"

"Of course you'd see that." He smiled. A warm smile that reached his eyes and let her know it was genuine.

"And what is it?" All those years with Lightman had taught her to cut to the chase. Even if doing it went against her nature.

"_Why_?" he asked. "Why leave a prestigious firm like the Lightman Group? Why leave a position which no doubt paid you considerably more than this one would?"

Gillian allowed herself an inward chuckle even as she kept her poker face.

_Oh, you'd be surprised. _

"I know your old boss, Dr. Lightman."

_Partner. Not boss. _Gillian wanted to correct him but she didn't. What did that matter now? It was her own fault she never pushed to get her name on the door. Never pushed for much of anything where the Lightman Group was concerned.

Of course he didn't pick up on a single micro-expression of hers, unlike Cal would have. It felt a little strange. To sit across a professional colleague who couldn't read her.

"So I called him, after I saw your application."

Gillian stopped just short of cringing. _Great. _

"Because I wondered whether you'd left the Lightman Group on...unpleasant terms."

_Depends what you'd call unpleasant. Whether having a blade slice your arm fits that bill._

"But all I got was a glowing reference. Saying whoever ended up with you was 'bloody lucky'."

She shouldn't have been surprised. Shouldn't have expected anything less from him. Still. It felt strange to hear it from someone else.

"Dr. Lightman and I ran a business together for nearly ten years. I didn't leave because of anything scandalous. I just...needed a change."

"This job is more than a change. It's a challenge, Dr. Foster. I won't lie to you. And I'm not entirely sure you know what you're in for. Not entirely sure why you'd want to be here."

Her face was still unreadable. It wasn't as though she was going to tell him the truth.

The truth being that she needed a job. Any job. That all her years at the Lightman Group hadn't left her with nearly enough to open her own practice.

That she _did_ need Cal to pay her out. Even if her pride and anger a month ago had told him that he didn't.

That of all the jobs she'd looked at, all the jobs she was qualified for, this one actually paid the best. Would give her the best chance of amassing enough money that in a few years she could consider opening her own practice.

"We dealt with our share of the criminal element at the Lightman Group," was what she told him instead.

"I'm sure you did," he agreed. "But I'm also sure you never had armed guards standing outside your door. Or had clients that were wearing muzzles so they wouldn't bite your ears off."

Gillian swallowed. What exactly _was_ she signing on for?

"I'm not trying to scare you off," he told her.

This time she bit back a smile. _Good thing you're not a salesman then. _

"What I'm trying to say is that I'd love to have you. That even after we go through the requisite bureaucratic paperwork...I'm willing to bet you'll still be the best candidate left standing in the end."

"In that case," she replied, not hesitating to return his smile this time. "I'd love to start the process."

When she was done and stepped back out into the warm DC sun, Gillian saw that she had a text message waiting on her cell phone.

It was from Cal.

-Can we talk before you take the job? Please. Call me.

Gillian squinted in the brightness of the day, before she reached for her sunglasses.

She looked at the message a second time and debated calling his number, still programmed into her phone.

She couldn't remember the last time he added a 'please' to the end of one of his requests. She didn't think the word was in his vocabulary. It would have stood out to her even if dissecting speech patterns wasn't her speciality.

The fact that he used it now meant that it wasn't so much as request as it was a plea. A desperate last ditch effort.

It made her feel guilty because if the tables were turned she'd like to think he'd respond to a plea from her. She'd like to think that he wouldn't erase a decade of friendship because of one accident, no matter how awful it was.

Gillian almost dialled his number before she felt a surge of anger rising from the base of her throat. Lightman knew her so well. Knew exactly which buttons he had to push.

"Damn you, Cal."

Her index finger hit 'erase' and she deleted the message. Adjusting her sunglasses to ward off the brightness, she started walking to her car.

* * *

><p><em>Lightman Residence<em>

Cal was about to pull a bottle of beer from the fridge when he heard his doorbell ring.

He probably should've questioned the idea of an unexpected visitor at this late hour but instead the thought of company made him happy.

Emily was still in DC but she was making her good-bye rounds this week before she took off for Berkeley. Tonight she was out with her best friend and would probably spend the night at her house. At least Cal hoped it was a her.

He might've stopped trying to police her social life, but he knew he'd never stop fretting and worrying. Not as long as he lived.

The house felt empty without his daughter and Cal knew it would be even worse once she wasn't just gone for a night or two, but for weeks and months at a time.

He also knew it was time to sell the place.

It was already far too big for two people, never mind one. Too big to keep clean, even with the weekly cleaning service he'd hired. And too expensive to maintain. Especially given his dire financial state these days.

He really should sell it, buy something much smaller and put the difference into the Lightman Group.

_Or forget about buying a smaller place. I'll just change the sofa to a sofa bed and live in the office. _

He needed to buy a new sofa anyway, since he couldn't get Gillian's bloodstains out of the old one. Couldn't stand to sit on it as long as he knew they were there.

Yet no matter how often he thought about selling the house he never quite got around to taking the necessary steps to do it.

He clung to it because it was chockfull of memories. Because when they'd first moved in here, his marriage had still been happy and Zoe talked about filling it with more kids. Because Emily celebrated so many milestones in this house.

And because part of him still hoped that he wouldn't live alone in it forever.

He thought of her as he went to open the door.

Gillian felt at home here. She'd told him as much one evening, while they were brainstorming in his kitchen.

It was so easy to imagine her living here. Baking something too sweet in his kitchen. Sitting out on his porch, reading some cheesy romance novel with her sunglasses on. Relaxing on his couch, eating chocolate ice cream straight from the container. Lying next to him, in his arms, on the king size bed that was much too large for one person.

The doorbell rang again.

_If you're standing on the other side, I swear I'm never letting go of you again._

_I swear I'm gonna make things right for once in my bloody life. _

He couldn't remember the last time he wanted something as badly as he wanted Gillian Foster to be standing on the other side of the door.

He didn't look through the peephole because he wanted those extra three seconds of hope.

"What took you so long? Were you up in the attic?"

Cal couldn't help the disappointment that flooded him. Even if the person who greeted him was a friend. One whose company he thoroughly enjoyed.

"Wallowski," he greeted her with a lop-sided smile. "Been dog's years since you been around."

She stepped inside. "Is that English for nice to see you?"

"Always good to see you."

"Liar."

"Was just about to have a beer, wanna join me? Tastes better with company."

"I'm not really here for a social call," she told him, taking off her jacket. "I wanted to see you about a case."

"A case? Why didn't you call?"

"I was in the neighbourhood so I thought I'd take my chances."

Cal eyed the clock on his wall. "It's almost ten o'clock. If you want to talk shop with me, you're gonna have to let me give you something to drink while you pretend that you enjoy my company."

"I don't have to pretend."

Cal handed her a bottle of beer after twisting off the cap. "What's the case?"

Wallowski took a sip, her face suddenly serious. "Before we talk about that...I heard what happened to Foster. I'm sorry."

Cal swallowed a big sip of his beer, wondering what exactly she heard. That Foster left? That he'd almost sliced her arm off?"

"Yeah, me too," was all he said.

"I can't really imagine the Lightman Group without her."

_Me neither. _

"Tell me about the case," he pressed, not wanting to talk about Gillian. Not with Sharon Wallowski, sore spot between them, of all people.

Of course she didn't let it go. "Where does that leave you two?"

"Nowhere." The more she pushed the more tight-lipped he got.

"She's out of your life?"

"Thought you had a case to discuss?"

"I do."

"So let's discuss it."

"You care about her."

"Bloody hell, Wallowski! Are you my shrink now?"

She ignored his outburst. "You know, I always kind of suspected there was more to you two than just the business and friendship stuff. The way she always stood up for you when push came to shove and the way she didn't like me coming into your life... it made me think she was jealous and that maybe you two had a thing going. But then you and I started dating...so I figured I was wrong. That it was only Foster who had feelings for you."

Cal felt his cheeks burn. He dated Wallowski because he liked her, because he needed a release and he knew with her he stood a chance. Even though he was in love with another woman. Looking back on it made him realize he really was a wanker who didn't deserve either of them. His cockiness might suggest otherwise but he was increasingly aware of that truth.

"Are you done?"

"But then when Foster's friend, Claire, was killed a few months ago. The way you reacted..."

Apparently she wasn't done.

"It made me think that maybe it wasn't such a one-way street after all. That maybe you love her too."


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

_Chinatown, Washington DC _

Emily grinned as she scooped up some of the shredded duck and rolled inside one of the steamed rice crepes, sprinkling some chopped cucumber and scallion on top of it. "This is amazing, Gill. I never thought tonight would be this fancy. I've never even had Peking Duck before."

"Tonight is special. We're celebrating," Gillian reminded her. It made her happy to see that she'd hit the nail on the head with her restaurant choice. Happy that she was able to do something special for Emily, who'd done so much for her a month ago. "It's not every day you get accepted into Berkeley and since you like Asian so much..."

"I love it." Emily reached over for some steamed vegetables. "Do you think I'll look like a tourist if I take pictures of the food?"

Gillian returned her grin. "It's your night."

"Excuse me," Emily called out to an approaching waiter as she took out her cell phone. "Can you take a picture of the two of us?"

The suit-wearing waiter gave her a courteous nod and Emily pushed her chair over to Gillian's, putting an arm around her shoulder.

The waiter took three photos and Emily showed them off to her after he left.

"You look beautiful, Em."

Both of them were smiling for the waiter, cheeks almost pressed against each other. They'd both chosen red tonight. Emily in a funky red blazer over a grey tank top and Gillian in a dark-red, short-sleeved dress with a plunging neckline.

"_You_ look gorgeous," Emily told her, going through the photos on her phone, trying to decide which one she liked best.

"You'll have to e-mail them to me," Gillian insisted.

"So you can frame them and miss me every day."

"As if I need a picture for that."

Emily laughed. "I'm kidding."

_I'm not. _

They ate for nearly an hour. Taking their time to wrap the minced duck meat and crispy rice noodles into the lettuce leaves. They talked and talked. About everything. From boys and clothes, politics and celebrity news, to the courses Emily chose at Berkeley and Gillian's potential new job at the detention facility.

It was only when the dessert arrived, layered coconut jelly for Emily and mango pudding for her, that Gillian sensed the conversation was about to take a more serious turn.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"My Dad's been trying to get in touch with you."

She wasn't quite able to meet Emily's gaze this time. "I know," she said softly.

"You don't return any of his calls, his e-mails, texts...anything."

Gillian said nothing.

Emily toyed with her dessert. "He wants to make things right between you two, but..."

Gillian sensed her hesitancy. Sensed that Emily wanted to tell her how much it bothered her that she was hurting her father. But at the same time wanting to do it in a way that wouldn't hurt her.

"You don't even give him a chance, Gill." Emily stopped staring at her food and looked up at her. "How can he fix anything, if you won't even let him try?"

Gillian exhaled. "What is there to fix?"

She could see the disappointment written all over the young woman's face. "So that's it? You're never going to talk to my Dad again?"

"I know he's sorry. I know he didn't mean for it to happen. I don't need him to tell me that."

"What _do_ you need from him then?" Emily was serious now.

It was a good question. One she didn't have an answer for.

She was the one toying with her dessert now. "Nothing."

"He loves you."

"I know he cares about me..."

"That's not what I said." Emily went on. "He's _in love_ with you."

Gillian frowned. "He's not." She knew Cal Lightman cared about her. Deeply. They'd been best friends and business partners for almost a decade.

But he wasn't in love with her. Even she wasn't that naive to think that just because she'd started falling for him meant that he felt the same.

Why would he pursue every other woman but her, if she was the one he loved?

Emily meant well. And in a way she was right. Cal did love her. But not the way Emily thought.

"Yes, he is, Gillian!" Emily put down her fork, demanding her full attention. "I'm about to go off to the other side of the country and I can't stand the thought of leaving and seeing you two not even _try_ to fix this!"

"So you tell me your father loves me in an attempt to get us back together?" Gillian still didn't quite get it. "_Really_?" It sounded more like the ploy of a ten-year old than something Emily would concoct.

"No, I'm telling you because it's the truth!"

"How do you know?"

"I asked!"

Gillian raised her brows. Incredulously. "You asked your father if he's in love with me?"

"Yeah..." Emily's gaze was suddenly back on her coconut jelly.

Gillian leaned back in her chair, not sure what to say anymore.

"Don't ask me why my Dad, who keeps telling others to grow a pair can't bring himself to tell you," Emily mumbled. "Even I can't figure that one out."

_He's in love with you. _

Gillian exhaled. She wanted to believe it. Didn't even realize until now how_ much_ she wanted to believe it.

_But it's not true. _

"Look..." she said softly. "I don't know how much your father told you, but our last few months together at the Lightman Group...they were awful." Gillian pointed to her arm. To the scar that was still there. "This...this was just the straw that broke the camel's back. It wasn't the only thing that made me leave."

Emily frowned. "I get that Dad can be a jerk. The Lightman Group is like his baby. So when things went south he took it out on you...because you were the closest person to him. Kind of like how I made him crazy when I was a bratty teenager. Because I knew he loved me enough that he could take it."

"Emily," she added. "I'm not very good at resisting your Dad. I know if I let him back into my life, he'll convince me to go back to the Group and in a few months, we'll be back to where we started and I don't want that."

"No..." Emily shook her head vehemently. "I don't agree. What happened to you a month ago changed him. He's not the same. And he's totally miserable without you."

"I know you want..."

"I don't want this for _me_, Gill! Don't you get it?" she cut her off. "When I was young I used to want him to get back with my Mom, but when I got older I realized how crazy they make each other. I don't want it anymore, for either of them. But with you it's different. You stop him from self-combusting. Things are calm and okay in his world when you're around. When Mom's around Dad, it's like...they're too much for each other. But you...you just make him happy."

Gillian managed a smile. There was a sincerity about Emily that made it so easy to love her.

"I know right now you remember only the bad times, but maybe..." Emily paused. "Maybe you can try to remember some of the good times too. When he's not being a jerk, my Dad's got this huge heart. He'd jump in front of a bus for you if that's what it took to keep you from getting hurt."

Gillian nodded. "I _know _he cares about me."

"He loves you," Emily corrected her. "I'm not saying he won't still drive you crazy, I know he will, but that's not all there is to him. My Dad's a good guy and he's dying for a chance to remind you of that."

Gillian lifted the small cup of green tea to her lips, taking a silent sip.

"But..." Emily lowered her shoulders in resignation, before raising her chin with a lopsided smile. "I love you too. I want you to be happy too."

"I know."

"I just...wish you'd give him a chance to be good to you again. To make you happy." She pursed her lips in thought. "Does that make sense?"

Gillian nodded, suddenly flooded by a sense of maternal love for the teenager next to her. "Yeah, sure it does."

"Look, if it's over between you and Dad, I understand. I'm just a hopeless romantic."

Gillian laughed. "If you weren't at your age I'd worry."

"If anyone deserves a happy ending it's you two," she added softly. "But if that's not meant to be, I get it. Just promise me we won't lose touch, okay?"

"Not a chance," Gillian told her, squeezing her arm, knowing she meant it. There was no way she'd let Emily Lightman slip out of her life. "I might even come and visit you out West."

"You should!" Emily agreed. "Then you can write my papers for me."

"You better change your major then."

Emily grinned. "No way. This family needs an engineer."

* * *

><p><em>Lightman residence, Washington DC <em>

_"It made me think that maybe it wasn't such a one-way street after all. That maybe you love her too." _

Cal Lightman finished the rest of his beer in one large swallow and set the empty bottle down on his table, staring at Sharon Wallowski, sitting across from him. Trying to remind himself that he was an exceptional liar.

"No," he told her casually. "It's not what you think. I don't love her."

This wasn't Emily. He didn't feel like he owed her the truth the same way he owed it to his daughter. Nor was he ready to discuss what he felt for his best friend with a woman he'd once slept with. "Foster's my colleague and friend and I felt bad for what happened with Claire. That's all."

Cal got up and held up his empty beer bottle. "I'm gonna get another one of these and then you're going to tell me about this case of yours, alright?"

Wallowski nodded, not happy with the way he'd dismissed her but fully aware that protesting wasn't going to get her anywhere. She did know him well enough to know that. "Okay," she mumbled.

Cal heard the phone ring when he was in the kitchen and he wondered whether Emily had suddenly decided she'd rather spend her last few nights in DC with her Dad after all. Whether she was calling for a ride home from some club or restaurant. It was late and Cal didn't feel like heading back outside. But he knew he'd do it anyway.

"Can you grab that?" he shouted in Wallowski's direction from the kitchen.

He heard her pick up the phone. Heard a few muffled words of conversation before he entered the living room again. "Wait...I'm sure he'd love to..."

Cal looked at her perplexed.

Wallowski looked at him sadly. "She hung up."

"Emily?"

"No...Foster."

"What?" Cal's hand tightened around his beer bottle. "Foster called? _Right now_?"

A month had gone by since he'd last seen her at the Lightman Group. A month without a single response to any of his calls and texts and e-mails. A month without hearing her voice or seeing her face.

And now she was calling? The second he'd stepped away to grab a beer and asked Wallowski to answer the phone for him? _What the hell were the chances?_

"What'd she say?" He tried to sound casual but he was gutted. Wanted to punch something again.

"I think she was...surprised to hear me answer the phone. I told her you were here, to hang on, but she said she'd call back."

"Did you tell her you're here to discuss a case?" Cal pressed.

"I didn't get a chance!"

Cal picked up his phone and dialled Gillian's number. Not caring what it looked or sounded like. How desperate it made him seem.

Of course he got her voicemail. "Call me back, Gill. Wallowski and I are here discussing work. You're not interrupting anything."

Then he set down the phone and looked at Wallowski.

"Thanks."

"I'm sorry. It's not what..."

"It's okay." The corner of her lips curled into a smile. "I get it. I get how much you're not in love with her."


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: **Huge thanks to GDA for looking over this. And once again taking full responsibility for all typos, grammatical errors and plot inconsistencies. (I mentioned that part, yeah?). Equally huge thanks to those who are reading and taking the time to leave your feedback!

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><p><strong>Chapter 13<strong>

_Chinatown, DC_

It was the dinner with Emily that changed her mind about calling him back. The words she couldn't get out of her head even though the rational part of her told her they weren't true.

_"He's in love with you." _

Everything about tonight reminded her how much she missed him. How much she wished he'd been there with her and Emily, sharing their Peking Duck and making them both laugh. Inevitably, that's what he'd succeed in doing. Because he was brilliant and funny and knew them better than anyone else.

_"He's in love with you." _

_-Can we talk before you take the job? Please. Call me._

Why had she avoided him for so long, when the truth was her actions probably hurt her more than they hurt him?

"Because I can't resist you," she mumbled aloud, answering her own question.

But a phone call wasn't exactly waving the white flag. A phone call just meant she'd get to hear his voice again and that thought made her happy. Made her smile against her will.

_It's not fair, that I miss you this much. _

She was sitting in her car, in the parking lot, when she dialled his number. Long moments after she'd said good-bye to Emily, who was heading to a late-show with a friend.

But it wasn't Lightman's familiar voice who answered the phone with a simple "hello."

She didn't have to ask who it was. Would have recognized the voice even if she'd only heard it once before.

"Wallowski."

"Foster?"

"I was looking for Cal...but I see this isn't a good time."

"No...it's okay. He's right here. Hang on a sec..."

"I'll call back."

"Wait I'm sure he'd love to..."

Gillian didn't wait. Didn't want to hear the rest of what she had to say.

She didn't want to feel the things she felt either. Didn't want to acknowledge the tears that were welling up at the base of her eyes.

She threw her cell phone against the dashboard of the car. Hating how much it hurt to know he was with someone else. To realize that Emily really, truly was wrong.

Most of all she hated herself for how much she'd wanted to believe it.

_"He's in love with you." _

"You're such a fool," she whispered to herself, wiping away her tears.

Cal Lightman desperately wanted her back because he needed her to help run the Group. Needed her to do all the million things she did to keep the place afloat, while he was busy keeping his precarious balance between brilliance and recklessness. Oblivious to how much it all got to her some days.

It was Alec all over again.

Her ex-husband had begged and pleaded for her not to go through with the divorce. Because he needed her. Needed her to look after him and to keep things right in his world.

That's what she was to the men in her life. Confidante, caretaker and cleaner-up of messes.

But at the end of the day she wasn't their first choice. At the end of the day Gillian Foster lost out to the likes of Sharon Wallowski and white Colombian powders.

It hadn't taken Alec long to stop trying.

It wouldn't take Cal long either.

She saw that there was a message from Cal's number. This time she didn't even bother to listen to it before she erased it.

Gillian turned the engine on and started driving, brushing away the last of her tears with the back of her hand.

* * *

><p><em>Lightman Residence <em>

"Look...wasn't trying to be a wanker."

Wallowski smiled. "What? Telling Foster she wasn't interrupting anything? It's the truth, isn't it?"

"No hard feelings?"

"You know I'm seeing someone else now, right?" she told him.

Cal shook his head. He hadn't known but he suspected. Neither of them had any illusions that what they had would lead to something lasting.

"He's a good guy and I really like him. Think it might actually turn into something," she admitted.

"Good," he told her, meaning it. "I'm happy for you."

"Gillian could be so good for you too. No one gets you like she does."

Cal looked at her, reading her. Apparently denial and avoidance were pointless tonight. "We'd have to regain some form of communication in order for her to be good for me. Unless you think constant rejection is what's good for me."

Wallowski gave him a little slap on the arm. "She called you tonight, didn't she?"

_Because I sent her a pleading text. _"Yeah...she did," was all he said.

"She'll call again."

_Not bloody likely. _

"I miss her like crazy. I want her back. Not just at work but in my life," he admitted. "Every day I go to work and check her office to see if she's there. Like a madman, knowing full well I'll see Torres' face staring back at me. But I still do it every single bloody morning, because that whole building isn't the same without her in it. Nothing's the same."

"Man...you've got it bad. Now I really know I wasn't the one." She drank some more of her beer. "Are you gonna tell me what happened?"

"Thought you heard?"

"I heard she left the Lightman Group. That there was a blow-out between you two after the Sampson mess. That's all."

"It's not all..." he mumbled and proceeded to tell her the rest. And afterwards he turned to her, wanting to see her honest reaction rather than hearing what she had to say.

There was some shock. Some disbelief. But not much else. He didn't see any judgment. Any disgust.

"Wow," was all she said.

"So you don't blame her for wanting nothing more to do with me?"

"No," she furrowed her brows. "Not saying that. In the end it was an accident, wasn't it?"

Cal shrugged his shoulders. He still didn't entirely buy that argument. It was his fist, his uncontrollable anger, that brought things crashing down. Literally.

"If she won't even talk to you it means she's pissed," Wallowski offered. "And hurt. Big time. If I can offer you some advice, as a woman, I'd guess it's about more than what happened to her arm."

"She said she wasn't angry."

Wallowski gave him a sceptical look. "You believed her?"

He mustered a smile. "Nah." He'd seen the anger on her face that day in her office. It had been overshadowed by resignation but it was there. He hadn't missed it entirely. No one else was as good as deceiving him as Foster but no one else could read her as well as he could. It made for a level playing field between them.

"So where do I go from here?"

"Stop calling and texting...go see her. In person."

"You mean confront her."

"Yeah...sure. Whatever. Is she working somewhere else now? Where you can go see her, instead of waiting on her doorstep like a stalker?"

Cal had some more beer. Wallowski had such a way with words. "I know she applied to the DC jail."

"The Central Detention Facility?" Wallowski's eyes widened. "Are you kidding me? Does she have a death wish too?"

Cal could tell she regretted her words almost as soon as she said them. Noticed that they gave him goose bumps. "Right..."

"Look...I didn't mean it like..."

"It's the DC jail, I get it Wallowski. Her new office is gonna have bars and steel-locked doors and guards standing outside the hallway."

Cal didn't want to think about her there. Wanted to leave right now and head to Foster's place and knock some sense into her stubborn head.

"Do you know if she'll actually get the job?"

"Of course she'll get it. She's the best at what she does."

Wallowski smiled. "I love you how you two get so defensive and protective about each other. Even when you're fighting. It all should've been blindingly obvious from the start."

Cal frowned. "Just telling you the truth," he mumbled.

"Go see her. In person," Wallowski reiterated.

"What if I aggravate her even more? I have a tendency to do that."

"And then what? She'll stop talking to you?"

Cal didn't say anything. Wallowski had a point. It couldn't exactly get any worse between him and Foster.

"Oh, and bring flowers."

Cal chuckled. No. Not flowers, he thought. Chocolates. Those salted butter-caramel truffles from Cocova on 18th St. He knew those were Foster's weakness. Maybe now was a good time to get her a box. Why the hell hadn't he thought of that before?

It might not make up for weeks and months of being a tosser but it was a start.

"Alright...I'll give it try. If it works, I owe you one."

"Perfect," she told him. "We'll be even then, after you help me with this case."

Cal sank into his couch getting comfortable. Glad he was done discussing his personal life with Wallowski. "Good to know you're finally done playing shrink. Now tell me about your case..."


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

_First District Police Station, Washington DC_

"That's him?" Cal asked Sharon Wallowski who was standing next to him, arms folded as she stared into the interrogation room from behind the mirrored window.

They couldn't see them from inside but Cal and Wallowski had a close-up view of the two men sitting at the table trying to hide their annoyance at having been brought in. At having been kept waiting on top of it.

"Kline is the one on the left," Wallowski told him. "The other guy's his high-priced attorney."

"I thought Kline _was _a high-priced attorney. Didn't feel like representing himself?"

Wallowski shrugged her shoulders. "Different kind of lawyer?"

Truth was Wallowski didn't have to explain either one. Cal already knew that Kline practised corporate law. Knew which one was the lawyer and which one was the client with one glance into the room.

He'd read the profile on Kline that Wallowski gave him a couple of days ago when she was over at his place. On paper Hunter Kline was squeaky clean. Good son, great student, successful lawyer.

The only thing Cal deducted from all that, was that he was smart. And the smart ones were the ones you had to watch out for. They were good at covering their tracks.

He looked perfect too, Cal had to admit. If you liked that sort of thing. Chiselled jaws, well-coiffed hair, immaculate suits and designer cufflinks.

It was an understatement to say that he was handsome. And Hunter Kline was all too aware of it.

_You probably have women throwing themselves at you. Women who have no idea that you prefer little boys. _

Cal kept staring into the room looking for other things on the man's face. Things other than the arrogance, disdain and irritation that would've been obvious to most people. Things that Kline might hide more efficiently once Cal was in the room with him.

"So if I say he's lying you get your search warrant?"

"Could you not say it like that?" Wallowski glared at him, hissing the words under her breath. "In here of all places?"

Cal pursed his lips, ignoring her admonition. "Right then. Let's do this."

They walked into the interrogation room together and Cal promptly sat down in a slouch across from Kline, whose contrasting posture was as straight as that of a military colonel.

Wallowski remained standing, her arms crossed and her expression serious.

Cal smiled at Kline. "Hunter. Nice name. You picked it, didn't you?"

There was no reaction.

"Your real name is Heinrich Klein," Cal pointed out. "You were born in Germany but your parents immigrated to the US when you were two years old. You don't even speak German, do you? Imagine being an American success story and saddled with a name like Heinrich."

"Is there a point to this, Dr. Lightman?" the lawyer questioned him. "Changing one's name isn't a crime."

"Klein." Lightman made a face. "It means 'little' in German." He held his thumb and index finger a couple of inches apart. "Is that a fitting name for you, Hunter? _Little_. Is that why you need a macho name and a Porsche SUV? To make you look _bigger_?"

Kline's pale blue eyes met Cal's and for a split-second the response he got gave him chills.

_Rage. _

It wasn't there for longer than an instant, or visible to anyone but him. But there it was. Bubbling beneath the surface.

Hunter Kline wanted to kill him for what he'd just said. And if they had been in this room alone he might have tried.

Cal swallowed. He'd dealt with a lot of scum in his lifetime and very few of them still managed to creep him out. But Hunter Kline was one of them.

Maybe it was because his vileness was masked by such a beautiful veneer. Not that Cal was about to confuse good looks and money with decency, but a lot of people did. It helped guys like Kline get away with murder.

"You don't have to dignify that with a response," Kline's lawyer told him.

"He's right," Cal shot back. "You don't. I don't need you to say a single thing in order to get at the truth. Your face tells me everything I need to know." He mustered another cocky smile. "Truth sucks, doesn't it? You can call yourself a predator, Hunter, but it still won't make you any bigger."

"Cal..." Wallowski warned him.

But he wasn't about to stop. In order to get at the truth, you had to push. And push. Then push some more. That's when you finally got honest reactions.

"Is that why you like little boys? Because no woman would ever want to be with you? Can you even get it up?"

Disbelief. Anger. Those would have been the normal reactions.

Not what he was getting now. Hatred. Rage. Disgust.

_Interesting. _Cal thought. He'd gone for a fishing expedition based on a gut feeling and come up with a major catch.

"Do they at least feel it when you take them from behind? Is that why you like the really young ones, because they're smaller?"

Kline's lawyer jumped up in anger. "This is ludicrous and has absolutely nothing to do with the matter at hand. Malicious lies and slander that's all it..."

Cal didn't miss the tightening of Kline's fist. It was getting harder for him to reign it in now. Near impossible.

_Something's gonna blow. Any moment now. _

_Keep pushing. _

"Does your mother know what a pathetic piece of shit you are underneath all your shiny toys? Does she know that's why you spend so much time at the gym, so that at least one part of you is..."

Cal almost saw it coming.

But not quite.

He did duck, but not fast enough to avoid getting punched square in the face as Kline leapt across the table to attack him.

The guy wore a massive gold ring and it rammed into Cal's nose with considerable force, sending him tumbling backwards.

"Hey..._hey_!" Wallowski jumped in between them while the guy's lawyer retreated against the wall.

It was all over in seconds, as Kline pulled back his fist, as shocked by his actions as anyone else in the room.

_You don't usually lose control. But when you do, this is what happens. It's good that the others in the room got to see it. Actions speak louder than facial cues that no one else but me can read. _

"You shouldn't have said those things, Dr. Lightman," he said calmly as he locked his eyes with Cal's for the last time.

Another cop came running into the room, tackling Kline along with Wallowski's help. It was pointless and a bit fuzzy as his ears started to ring and the metallic taste of blood began dripping onto his lips from his nose.

Cal wiped it away with the back of his hand as he watched Wallowski cuff the guy.

Both cops hoisted Kline back to his feet, grabbed him by the arm, and escorted him out of the room. Into a holding cell, Cal guessed.

Wallowski came back a couple of minutes later holding a wet cloth and handing it to him. "Your face looks like a mess. Do you want to go to a hospital?"

Cal shook his head. It was just a bloody nose.

He wiped it clean with the wet cloth, wincing when he accidentally pressed too hard. Maybe it wasn't just a bloody nose. It was possible that it was broken. Wouldn't be the first time and probably not the last.

"You were supposed to use your science to deduct whether we had a legitimate reason for a search warrant not...rile him to the point where he wanted to punch your lights out."

"He was past the point of wanting to," Cal corrected her. "The guy's a psychopath. I hope you get your warrant."

This time Wallowski raised her lips into a conspiratorial smile. "Well...I admit, the assault charge didn't hurt. We got it. My men and I are heading to his place now. We're taking along our top IT techs."

"Good," Cal said, with a frown. "Hope what you find helps nail the bastard."

Wallowski was already half way out the door. "Yeah, I do... and I don't."

Cal watched her go. He could make vague guesses about the things they might find hidden deep in the disturbing recesses of Kline's computer hard drive.

He shuddered at the images his mind conjured up, deciding that he didn't want to know.

He hoped Wallowski wouldn't tell him and that today marked both the beginning and the end of his involvement with Hunter Kline.

He had no desire to ever be in the same room with the guy again.

One bloody nose was enough.

* * *

><p><em>One week later <em>

_Dulles Airport, DC_

"It looks much better now."

"Hey, stop that!" Cal grimaced after Emily gave his nose a gentle poke with her index finger.

"It's a bit more crooked than before, but it looks almost...normal."

"Thanks. I think."

Emily had dropped off her two large suitcases at the airline counter but hadn't gone through the security check yet, even though her flight was leaving in less than an hour. Mostly because she knew that he wanted to prolong this moment as long as possible. Knew that no matter what he'd told her this past week, all that stuff about being proud of her and trusting her and wanting her to gain her independence just as much as she did was a load of bollocks he muttered mostly to try and convince himself.

Truth was, she hadn't left yet and already he was missing her like crazy.

In the span of a few weeks he'd lost the only two women he didn't ever want to be without. He'd been trying not to let it show but of course Emily knew him too well to be fooled by it all.

"I'm gonna miss you too, you know," she told him because clearly it was written all over his face.

"Did I say anything about missing you?" he shot back. "I get to have baked beans for breakfast, lunch and dinner now."

Emily rolled her eyes before wrapping her arms around him. "You're such an idiot, Dad."

Cal held her tight, not wanting to let go. His little girl was going off to study at the other end of the country. Going off to grow up and do all the crazy things that college students did that gave him heart palpitations just thinking about it. Things that made him want to take her by the hand and lead her back to his car while telling her that he'd changed his mind about the whole thing. That he wasn't letting her go until she turned forty.

"Don't do anything stupid, alright?" he said softly. "I love you too much to see you get hurt."

"I know and I won't. I'm gonna have fun, Dad but I won't screw this up...I want this degree and I'm gonna work hard for it."

When exactly did his scraggly teenage kid turn into such an amazing, level-headed young woman?

Sometimes he wanted to yell it out to the world. _This wonderful human being right here, that's my daughter, Emily Lightman. _

He wasn't sure how much credit he should get for the way she turned out, but if any of it was his doing then he knew that for once he did something right.

"I saw the box of chocolates in the back seat," Emily told him.

"Huh?"

"The truffles from Cocova," she clarified. "Are you going to see Gillian after you leave the airport?"

"Yeah. Gonna give it another try."

The answer put a smile on her face. "Good."

"Any last minute advice?"

"Sure."

"Like what?"

"Do whatever it takes," she told him. "Beg, grovel, plead...whatever."

He chuckled. "Got it."

"I mean it. Tell her she's amazing and that you're crazy about her. Because it's true and she needs to hear it. Plus, you need someone to keep you in line when I'm away so I don't worry."

Cal nodded. "Aye, aye."

"I really should head through security," she told him. "The line-up is huge."

"Yeah...you should," he agreed but not before scooping her up in a final hug. "Have a good flight, luv. Text and call and e-mail and Skype, okay?"

"I will," she agreed for the umpteenth time. "I'll be home for Christmas."

Christmas. Cal couldn't even fathom it right now, it seemed so far away. He'd lobbied for Thanksgiving but Zoe had won that one. Emily would spend Thanksgiving in Chicago with her mom and her new husband. Cal got Christmas. Just Christmas, not even New Year, because somehow Zoe got that one too.

He'd have to make do with Christmas. A holiday he didn't even really care to celebrate. Although having Emily back home would be ample reason to.

"You gonna be okay, Dad?"

"Why the hell wouldn't I be okay?"

"Just asking..."

"Are you still here?"

Emily grinned. "You're impossible."

Cal gave her one last kiss, before she turned her slender back to him and walked through the security check. Heading to her new life, away from his.

* * *

><p><em>Later <em>

He couldn't find parking.

He never could near Foster's place.

She lived in the heart of Georgetown, in an old town home. Her place was barely one tenth the size of his, but it was probably worth about the same if she were to sell it, purely because of its location.

Cal knew that Foster would hate to sell it. That she bought it after her divorce and loved it precisely because it was old, full of character and located in the heart of DC. It meant she could leave her car at home and take the Metro to work. Could walk to the restaurants she loved to eat at.

He'd spent a fair share of nights in her guest room. Sometimes because they left the office much too late and staying here was easier than commuting. Other times when they'd gone out after work and he drank too much to drive home.

Then there were those handful of times when he came over for no other reason than needing her company.

He didn't have to give her an explanation. And she'd never asked for one.

Funny, that it was those unspoken moments, the ones where they understood each other without a single word, that really cemented their friendship. And now, after almost a decade, he suddenly no longer understood her.

That knowledge gnawed at him and almost made him miss the parking spot he finally spotted, two blocks from her home.

Cal pressed on the gas and snapped it up before someone else did.

Once he was parked he checked his face in the rear-view mirror before grabbing the box of chocolates from the back seat and getting out of the car.

Emily was right; his nose was looking better. Close to normal again.

He walked towards her place, relieved to find that the kitchen light was on. He knew that it meant she was home. That unlike others in the neighbourhood, who left them on all the time, Foster only turned on the lights when she was home.

Cal stopped and debated pacing around the block, to ease the restless energy that never seemed to leave him. Then he changed his mind. Patience wasn't one of his strong suits. He was dying to see her.

He took a deep breath, walked up to her door and knocked.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

_-Let me be clear. I understand very little. Least of all the people closest to me. _

* * *

><p><em>Georgetown, DC <em>

Gillian Foster stood in the doorway, casually dressed in well-worn jeans, a white peasant blouse and bare feet. Her striking blue eyes met his with surprise.

"Cal?"

He was staring, not realizing until now how much he'd missed just looking at her. One more thing he'd taken for granted. It never occurred to him that there would come a time in his life when weeks would go by without seeing her face.

_I miss looking into your gorgeous eyes. Miss trying to figure out all the million things they can say with one silent glance in my direction. _

He missed her smile too. Missed the way it made him feel when he walked into a room, knowing he was the one who prompted it.

He wanted to tell her all that. What he did say was, "Hi, Foster."

"What are you doing here?"

"Stalking you?"

His attempt at humour fell flat. Not even a hint of the smile he liked so much.

"Cal...?" Her arm reached out, moving towards his face before stopping itself in mid-action, pulling back again, as if she suddenly remembered that she was still angry with him. That maybe they weren't that close anymore. "What happened to your face?"

"Stopped by the police station last week. You know that means a fist fight."

That too didn't garner the slightest bit of amusement from her, although he thought he caught a flash of concern on her face. She'd always been hard to read but lately it was near impossible.

"Can I come in?"

She lowered her shoulders, her face offering him its first unmistakeable emotion: irritation. "It's late..."

That hurt. More than he'd admit. Because he couldn't imagine ever being that angry with her that he wouldn't want her in his home. Because no matter what, she was his best friend.

"Won't be long. Promise."

"Fine." Gillian opened the door wider to let him in.

He mustered a smile and handed her the beautifully wrapped box he picked up this afternoon. "Brought you some chocolates."

Finally, he elicited a smile from her too. "Cocova. My favourite store."

She set it down on her dining room table, without offering him a seat. Without saying anything else.

His eyes wandered to her arm. To the scar he now spotted there and made his gut churn each time he saw it. "How's the arm?"

"It's fine."

"You seen someone about it yet? To see if they can remove it."

"Haven't really thought about it yet. No."

Cal swallowed. He wanted her to. Because he wanted to believe it could be fixed. The same way he wanted to believe he could find a way to repair the rest as well.

"You know I'll take care of it. The cost..."

"Yeah, I know."

"Gill...about this new job."

"I need to work, Cal."

"You _have_ work. You have a company that needs you, misses you..."

"A company that needs me?"

"_I _need you."

"You_ need_ me?"

"Yeah..." It was the truth. He needed her. Needed her calm him and ground him. Needed her to remind him that it was okay to be human and decent, even when no one else was. Needed her to remind him how lucky he was to have her around, because he was prone to forgetting it, way too often.

But more than all that, he _wanted_ her. Wanted her back in his life because he hadn't realized until she left that, next to Emily, she'd been the best part of it.

"I'm not...going back to the Lightman Group because you need me."

He moved closer to her. Into her space. He had to read her because she wasn't telling him anything that even vaguely resembled the truth. "Then what will it take? Tell me..._what_?"

She narrowed her brows, defensively. "Nothing."

"I don't believe you." He said softly. "I don't believe that there's nothing that will make you come back to the company you spent the last decade pouring your heart and soul into."

He was so close to her he could feel her breath on his. Smell the subtle scent of her in his nostrils. Could see her dilating pupils. Could see that she felt some of the same things he did.

Cal couldn't remember the last time he'd wanted to kiss someone as badly as he wanted to kiss Gillian right now. He was fighting a losing battle when it came to saying the right things. Maybe if he could _show_ her how much she meant to him.

He wanted to do it. Was moving towards her and was so close to putting his arms around her when suddenly, shockingly, she rammed the palms of both of her hands into his shoulders and pushed him away, shoving him, hard, into the wall behind him.

He winced when he hit the wall. Maybe if he'd been expecting it he could've lessened the blow, but her reaction caught him completely off guard.

The sheer force of it seemed to catch her by surprise too. Shock and remorse mingled with the anger he'd seen on her face.

Cal exhaled, running a hand along the back of his head. He might have a bump there tomorrow.

"I'm sorry...I didn't mean..." she said, breathless, moving a hand over her face in shock. "To push...that hard."

Cal couldn't take his eyes off her. He hated that he could see so much while understanding so little. It was obvious that she wanted to hurt him, even though that fact shocked her as much as him. "Yeah, you did."

She shook her head. "No..."

"Yes, you did." He moved closer to her again, forcing her to look him in the eye. To at least be honest with herself for a change. "You're _so_ angry, Gill."

"I'm not."

"You are. And if pushing me helps you get rid of that anger...then go for it. Shove me into the wall. Hurt me the way I hurt you."

"I don't want to hurt you."

"Yeah, you do. For chrissakes, at least admit it."

It was the wrong thing to say. He could literally see her putting up another wall with every miniscule gesture on her face. From the way she tightened her lips to the way she raised her jaw ever so slightly. Defiantly.

"I'm not one of your cases, Cal."

"No, you're not..."

"But you're treating me like it. You push and you push, until I push back and then you wonder why."

"I'm pushing because everything else I've tried hasn't worked!"

"Did you ever think that maybe the truth is irrelevant?"

What kind of a question was that?

"Never." He told her. "If I ever thought that I wouldn't be doing what I do."

"Me telling you the truth isn't going to change anything this time."

_At least you're admitting that you're not telling me the truth. It's a start. _

"Try me," he begged. "Come_ on_, Gill. Don't shut me out without even telling me why."

"I think...you should leave."

"No..." Cal wanted to bang his head into the wall again. Voluntarily this time. "I'm not leaving until you tell me truth."

"Don't you get it? It's not always about you getting the truth," she shot back.

"Bloody hell..."

Gillian was about to turn her back on him when he grabbed her arm and forced her to face him. "We spent almost a decade together! Built a company from scratch, and kept each other sane during our divorces, saved each other's lives more than once...and after all that we can't even be honest anymore? How the hell did that happen?"

"You're right," she admitted and this time he clearly caught the bitterness in her voice. "We spent ten years together...and what do I have to show for it? A company that's so deep in the red that..."

"The Lightman Group is not going bankrupt," he cut her off as he let go of her arm. It wasn't. Not now that he'd finally taken all the right steps to make sure it wouldn't.

"And..." Gillian's eyes lowered, full of anger, as they darted to the scar on her arm. Only for a split second. But Cal caught it all the same. Just as he saw the tears that were starting to pool in her eyes.

He was angry and frustrated with her too now. But at the same time it tore at him to see her like this. Because no matter how much she was hurting him, she was hurting too. That much he was certain of.

"What do you want me to do to change that? Just tell me._ Please_."

He thought he saw her resolve wavering. Indecision tugged at the faint lines on her face. There was something she wanted to tell him. Something she was keeping bottled in that was fuelling her anger.

"Tell me...what do you want me to do?" he repeated. He could see that she was so close to letting go.

She knew it too. And because of it, she suddenly, calmly, brushed away a tear with the back of her hand, tightening her resolve all over again.

"I don't want to do this, Cal. Please. Just leave."

Cal swallowed. That hurt. Worse than the earlier shove into the wall. Because leaving was the last thing he wanted to do. He desperately wanted to make this right and she wasn't even giving him the chance to try.

And he wanted to hold her. Wrap his arms around her and let her know that no matter how much she frustrated him she meant the world to him.

But he'd asked her what she wanted. And she told him. Disregarding it would make him the ultimate hypocrite.

"Alright..." he replied, conceding defeat. "If that's what you want. I'll go."

She gave him a silent nod of gratitude, her moist eyes meeting his with a world of mixed emotions, none of which he understood.

It took a monumental effort for him to take a step back. It wasn't his style to give up so easily and he knew if he kept pushing he'd get at the truth at some point. He always did. And regardless of what Foster said, it did matter.

But he didn't have the heart to do it at her expense. She was right. She wasn't one of his clients. She was his best friend and he loved her. In every sense of the word.

"I never meant to hurt you and I'm really, _really_ sorry that I did," he said, turning around to face her one last. Needing her to hear it again. "Whenever you're ready to talk, I'll be there. Doesn't matter when. You know where to find me."

Cal wished she'd say something. Even more than that he wished he could interpret what her eyes were telling him.

But he couldn't. And she didn't.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

_DC Central Detention Facility_

_One week later _

The doorbell rang in her office and after a brief glance at the camera screen above her desk, Gillian Foster was about to buzz in the visitor. But he beat her to it. Opening the door with his key card himself.

It was a not-so-subtle gesture reminding her who was boss. That he could enter her office whenever he felt like it.

Doug Penn was the senior psychologist on staff and he didn't like her. Or didn't like the fact that the decision to hire her had gone over his head. Or something like that.

Gillian sensed that he was threatened by her. Even if that idea was so absurd it made her want to laugh. Part of her wanted to tell him as much but that would only touch another nerve. It was ironic, she thought. That the three psychologists on staff, probably the three most educated people in the building, all experts on human behaviour, couldn't function as a cohesive team.

Maybe they could learn something from the inmates on that front.

"Have you settled in Dr. Foster?" he asked her as he strode up to her desk.

"Getting there."

Dr. Penn handed her a folder. "Hopefully you'll be there by tomorrow morning because this is your new caseload. If you fall behind it won't be pretty."

She gave him her most disarming smile. "Thanks for the advice."

Her charm left him cold. "You're aware that I have the final say on your recommendations, yes?"

"I was aware that you might look over them."

He made a half-hearted attempt at returning her smile, but it was so phony and forced, it made her miss Cal Lightman all over again. Made her wonder why he bothered.

It filled her with a pang of sadness when she realized he'd be one of the two people she'd be working most closely with here.

"If I don't agree with your patient assessments, I have the authority to override them."

Gillian bit her lip. "I see."

"It has been a while since you've worked in a clinical capacity, hasn't it?" Douglas Penn inched closer to her, as Cal was prone to doing. But with him her reaction was markedly different. Gillian instinctively took a step back to increase the distance between them.

"Not really," she countered. She didn't owe him an explanation. She wouldn't be here if she wasn't still licensed to practice. "A lot of my work at the Lightman Group involved client assessment."

"You're not at the Lightman Group anymore, Dr. Foster."

"I see that."

He held her gaze, for a purposely long time, daring her to drop hers first. _Intimidation 101. _

"Good. And for the record, unlike our director, not all us of are fans of Dr. Lightman's so-called science."

"That's okay," she shot back icily, done with the pretence for the moment. Defending Cal Lightman and his science was second-nature to her. No matter how angry she was with him, she'd never deny his brilliance. "You don't have to be a fan to accept its validity."

The response riled him. She might as well have told him he was an ignorant hick.

"May I offer you a suggestion?"

Gillian didn't say anything. Knowing he wasn't waiting for her permission.

Dr. Penn swallowed and it made his Adam's apple bob a little. "Stick to DSM guidelines when making your diagnoses around here. Leave the micro-expressions out of it."

"Got it," she mumbled, nodding as he turned his back on her and left her office as rapidly as he'd entered it.

The whole exchange left her tense and irritable. She didn't like confrontation. Never had and never would, even as she understood that sometimes it was both healthy and necessary.

Gillian sat down and leaned back in her chair, absentmindedly massaging her temple with an index finger. The mild headache she'd sported for most of the day was getting worse. It might go away if she could just get a cup of coffee somewhere in this damn building. Every time she stopped by the decades-old percolator in the staff lounge it was empty and there weren't any refill bags in sight. She'd have to bring her own from now on, since her request to install an espresso machine in the office had been denied.

Everything here required written permission. The bureaucracy of it all was stifling. It almost made her feel like she was back at the Pentagon and she didn't like the feeling.

"I hope you're enjoying some good coffee on my behalf, Ria," she muttered aloud with a wry smile, thinking back to the fancy European machine she'd left behind in her office at the Lightman Group. Not bothering to take it with her because she had one at home too.

Or maybe her head hurt because part of her wanted to crawl out of her skin and run out of this depressing room. One day inside this gray, windowless space and already she longed for her bright office at the Lightman Group. She missed the high-tech equipment they had at their fingertips. The half-dozen research assistants to help them out. The brilliant minds they got to work with on a daily basis. The interesting cases they took on.

She thought back to Cal's unexpected visit nearly a week ago.

_"You have work. You have a company that needs you, misses you..." _

She remembered how angry his words had made her that night. She was so used to dissecting the verbiage of others, it was second nature to her, just as reading faces came naturally for Cal.

_"...a company that needs you..." _

_"I need you." _

_"...you have work." _

_"I don't believe that there's nothing that will make you come back to the company..."_

_"...built a company from scratch, kept each other sane during our divorces..." _

_"...a company that needs you..." _

In the end, it was all about the Lightman Group and that hurt. And it made her angry. Because just for once in her life she didn't want to be needed. She wanted to be wanted.

_I was hoping that maybe you wanted me back because it's what you want. Not because it's what the Lightman Group needs. _

That was the truth that he'd tried to wrench out of her. The truth she wouldn't tell him. Not after hearing Wallowski's voice answer the phone the one time she'd returned one of his messages.

_Because telling you what I want, won't make it happen. Won't make a difference. _

_I can't make you want me. _

In the end, she wasn't a Zoe or a Clara or a Wallowski, no matter how much she sometimes wished she was. Because they all clearly had something she didn't.

"It's not his fault you've fallen for him," she reminded herself aloud. A lot of things were his fault. The temper that made him punch out a cop and caused so much of the financial mess their company was in. The constant fights they had before...before his anger made him punch a bookcase and leave her with scar that would last a lifetime.

"_That _was your fault," she whispered to no one. "And you deserved my anger for all that."

But the anger she felt now for loving him in spite of it, wasn't. This time the anger was directed at herself and for once she'd turned the tables and taken it out on him.

Gillian grimaced when she thought back to the way she'd shoved him into the wall.

She told him afterwards that she didn't want to hurt him, but of course he'd called her on that lie. While at the same time letting her know he didn't blame her. That was typical Cal. Letting her know that he'd messed up, but that he would own up to it and pay the price. He always did.

Even if he didn't want her, Gillian knew he cared about her. Deeply. Maybe even more so than some of the women he did want. So much so that he'd even convinced his daughter he was in love with her.

Cal Lightman had been there during the worst moments of her life. Had watched her fall apart after she lost Sophie and then helped her find her footing again. Had tried to do whatever he could to protect her when he thought that Alec was cheating on her. Had come over to her place and eaten ice cream straight out of the bucket while watching old movies with her after Dave Burns left without so much as a good-bye and broken her heart in the process.

He'd even saved her life a few times.

Lately there'd been so many bad times, she'd conveniently forgotten about the good ones.

Cal Lightman might not always be a stellar business partner, but he was an amazing friend. The best one she ever had.

She made the right decision to leave, Gillian realized that now. No matter how much she missed the Lightman Group. That awful night in his office had been the catalyst, but the hurt and the anger had been there long before then.

She'd been too wrapped up in what she couldn't have that'd she'd lost sight of what she did have.

Gillian closed her eyes to ward off the pounding in her head.

She didn't want to lose his friendship. It meant too much to her and she knew she'd fight to get it back. But in order to do that, she needed to fall out of love with him first. Needed to step outside the giant shadow of Cal Lightman and find her own footing again. To remind herself that the defeated Gillian Foster of the last few months wasn't who she was or wanted to be.

That Gillian couldn't be a decent friend to anyone. Least of all herself.

* * *

><p><em>Lightman Group<em>

"Lightman?" Ria Torres poked her head in his office. "Did you forward your line to my phone?"

He barely looked up from what he was reading. "Yeah."

"Why?"

Cal sighed. Thirty uninterrupted minutes to read through an analysis report before they sent it back to a client, was that really too much to ask for? "Because I needed to read this before we hand it back to Fletcher today. Do I have to give you an explanation every time I do something?"

"No," she told him. "But it would be nice if you let me know."

Cal couldn't help an inward smile. This was exactly why he liked her better than Loker . Why he'd promoted her ahead of him. Even if it wasn't fair. Even though the scientist in him knew that Loker was the more capable and educated of the two.

But unlike Loker, he didn't have to handle Torres with kid gloves. She gave as good as she got and_ that_ was an invaluable asset in this business. And it was an even more important quality to have when it came to working with him.

"Wallowski's calling for you. She told me it's urgent."

"You can tell her I got her message. I'll call her when I have the time."

It was a deal with a devil, this agreement he'd made with the DC police. A last ditch effort to avoid the lawsuit that would have destroyed the Lightman Group. But this year-long deal might just kill him before it was over.

The police chief thought it meant she owned him now. Like a dog on a leash. All she had to do was give it a tug and he'd be jerked in her direction.

The agreement was very clear that there was a limit to the amount of time they had the Group at their disposal and that "Lightman Group" didn't necessarily equate with Lightman himself. But the police chief liked to ignore that part. So for now he'd ignore her. Even if she thought that using his friend Wallowski as a messenger would net her a faster response.

"She keeps calling," Torres insisted.

"Put her through to your voicemail then."

She gave him an annoyed little frown. "Fine."

Cal got up and made himself a tea after she left. Put down the blinds in his office and went back to his report. The knowledge that he needed to hire someone was in the back of his mind as he skimmed through it. Even though Loker and Torres were mostly capable of handling their own cases these days, and Torres was doing an admirable job tackling nearly everything that Foster used to do, she'd left behind a huge gap.

There was no one staff now who had Foster's qualifications or her people skills. Never mind her talent for voice stress analysis. In short, there was no one who could take over for_ him_ if need be.

Cal briefly entertained the idea of merging his firm with Jack Rader's. For about five seconds before the thought made him too nauseous to continue thinking it.

He wouldn't find another Gillian Foster. That much he knew. But he had to at least try and start looking.

Less than an hour had passed since Torres stuck her head in his office, when suddenly a loud knock jarred him from what he was reading.

"What the...?"

The person on the other side didn't bother to wait for a response before opening the door and storming into his office.

"Why aren't you answering my calls?"

"Wallowski..." he mumbled. "I know this sounds crazy but I do have a business to run. The Lightman Group, have you heard of it?"

"Didn't you get my messages?"

Cal raised his brows. He'd seen that she left him some but he'd be lying if he said he actually listened to them.

"There's a problem with the Hunter Kline case," she announced before he had a chance to reply. Stress and strain were written all over her pretty face. "He's gonna walk unless we do something."


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: **I do realize I'm being pretty liberal when it comes to all things related to police procedure here. For those that have a firmer grasp of these things than I do, I hope you'll indulge me for the sake of the story. :) Big thanks as always to those reading and leaving me your thoughts.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 17<strong>

_Washington DC_

_Lightman Group _

"Wait..." Cal Lightman held up his hand once he no longer followed Wallowski's rant. "Slow down. What do you mean they're saying the search was illegal? You got the warrant. That's why I went down to the station to interview that creep."

She was pacing in his office, clearly upset. "Do you know what we found on his computer?"

Cal cringed. He really didn't want to know and he wished she wouldn't tell him.

"Not even teenagers, Cal," she blurted out, still pacing as she threw her hands in the air. "Kids! There was this one video with this little girl...she was maybe five years old. She was wearing this...this thong. I swear, you could tell she'd been drugged. She was all lethargic and slow and then there was this guy in the video...this fucking bastard who..."

"Stop," Cal raised his hand this time. "I don't wanna know. I get it. Kline's a sick, twisted piece of humanity. Go back to the search warrant," he told her. "Why would it be invalid, or illegal, or whatever?"

Wallowski was seething. "Because of some technicality...because some piece of crap defense lawyer is trying to argue that the reason behind it was invalid."

"My science can be proven," he told her. "I can go through the video of the interview and do a scientific analysis of the things I saw. Put it all on a paper report, if that's what you need."

"It's not that," she told him, lowering her shoulders and finally taking a seat across from his desk. Exhausted. "On the form that our chief signed it was stated the whole thing was based on a psychological assessment, on some sort of pathology...I don't even know what the exact verbiage was."

Cal frowned. "What we did wasn't a psychological assessment. I used micro-expressions to read the guy. Big difference."

"Yeah...that's sort of what the lawyer's trying to argue too."

Cal didn't understand. "Then have the chief admit she used the wrong terminology. One isn't more valid than the other."

"She won't. Because that would open a whole other can of worms. That would open the door for an argument against police incompetence."

Cal got up and poured her a cup of tea. Handing her the cup when he was done. "Look...I'm sorry it turned out that way. But what do you want me to do? I can't correct your boss' mistake if she won't. I never intended to assess the guy."

"Can you?"

"Can I what?"

"Assess him? Psychologically?"

"What difference would that make now?"

"So you _could_?"

"I could...but not legally. I'm not a licensed clinical psychologist."

"See, that was part of his lawyer's argument. That the Lightman Group was incapable that kind of assessment. I think Kline only agreed to do it in the first place because he thought it was some psych test that he could beat with his eyes closed. But then he got you instead and he lost his temper on top of it, and it all went south. So now they're trying to turn the tables and say they were tricked into something."

"But are they saying that Kline would still be willing to do an assessment?"

"Not really. But our lawyer says we can force him to do it because of the initial agreement." Wallowski made a face as she drank some of his tea. "That's why I needed you. To have the Lightman Group do another assessment. But if you're saying you can't..."

"I can't," Lightman told her. "But that doesn't mean the Lightman Group is incapable of it. Foster could do it."

Wallowski's face suddenly flooded with hope. "I thought she's not part of the Lightman Group anymore?"

"She is on paper. She's still part owner of the company."

"Can you get her to do it?" Wallowski pushed herself off the chair, setting down her tea cup on his desk. "Please? This means we might have a chance."

For a second he wanted to kick himself for mentioning it. "Look...I don't think she's open to taking on any of my cases right now."

"This isn't just any case, Cal! We're talking about a guy who watches sex tapes with drugged five-year olds! And you can't even be bothered?"

"Hold on a minute," Cal shot back. "Don't you think you're getting a little too involved in this?"

"How can I not?"

Cal didn't blame her. Not given the nature of this thing. He knew if something like it had landed in his lap he wouldn't sleep until he'd done everything he could to make sure the guy was behind bars.

"At least ask for god's sake! If you won't I will."

"Alright, alright..." What was one more rejection? Although he had a feeling that if he got as far as talking to her, Foster wouldn't say no. In fact he'd bet his house on it.

That if she did say no, then he really, truly didn't know her anymore.

* * *

><p><em>DC Central Detention Facility <em>

"I brought you some leftovers," her colleague told her, handing her plastic Tupperware container. "Piri-piri chicken with rice and chorizo."

Gillian licked her lips. It looked mouth watering. Even now, cold and covered in plastic. "You didn't have to do that," she told him.

"I know," he answered. "I wanted to. You're so skinny and always eating crap."

Gillian smiled. Neither of those were really true. But then anyone would be skinny next to Alexandre Almeida. The man was a giant. He had to weigh at least three-hundred pounds, she guessed, if not more. He was the third psychologist on the team, next to her and Douglas Penn. He was sweet and kind and ridiculously laid back. His skin was the colour of cafe au lait and his hair was a dark, thick mop of waves. Because he was born in Guyana and spent his youth in Brazil, his voice had a soft Portuguese lilt with just the slightest hint of an accent.

Gillian liked him instantly and the feeling was mutual. He'd already taken her under his wing. Shown her all the little things she needed to do and those she needed to avoid in order to succeed here without losing her sanity.

They spent two accidental hours getting to know each other last week, during a lock-down that had them stuck in her office together, unable to get out. She'd been nervous and panicky, finishing a small box of chocolate covered almonds in record time while he got comfortable on her couch and made small talk to keep her occupied.

During those two tense hours she learned that he had a great sense of humour and a wildly handsome French boyfriend who worked as a chef in one of the city's top restaurants.

"It's why I'm so fat," he'd told her. "It's Maurice's fault."

"Bastard." Gillian joked. "You should dump him."

He'd laughed out loud. "I like you, Gillian. I swear if Doug makes you quit I'll sit on him."

"If you do make sure I'm here to see it."

"So the Lightman Group, yeah?" he'd asked. So many people were fascinated by it. Wanted to know more about it. She hadn't realized until she left just how much Cal Lightman was admired by his peers. For having been able to turn his science into a commercial success. "Can you tell when I'm lying?"

"Depends."

"On what?"

"On whether I make the effort to try and read you." Gillian had offered him a chocolate covered almond that he declined. "It doesn't come automatically for me, like it does for Lightman. He's studied faces for so long he can read people even when he'd rather not."

"What's it like working for him?"

_For_ him. Not _with _him. The verbiage hadn't escaped her.

"It was good. Really good." Until it wasn't. But she didn't add that.

"If it was that good you wouldn't have left."

Gillian hadn't said anything in response.

"Did the jerk break your heart? Want me to sit on him too?"

Then she'd laughed. "No. On both counts."

"So you can't tell if I'm lying at will?"

"Not really. But...I can tell some things by listening."

"Like?"

"The way you say Doug's name."

His dark eyes had narrowed and when she did make an effort to read him, she spotted apprehension. When Alex said it, it always came out sounding like 'dog'. "It sounds like...well, you know what it sounds like."

"Are you making fun of my accent, Gillian?"

"But that's the thing. It's not your accent. There are phonetically identical words that you pronounce perfectly."

Alexandre had started fidgeting then. He was a lousy liar. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying you're very clever. To call your boss a dog to his face every single day and get away with it."

"Wow." She'd clearly impressed him. "You're good. Been here ten years and no one has ever...noticed."

"Don't worry. Your secret's safe with me."

And that's when the lights had gone out, plunging them into a darkness so thick she couldn't see her hands in front of her face.

"Alex...?" She'd heard the fear in her own voice then. "What's happening?"

"Could be a few things. Fight maybe. Or an inmate is missing. Or not where he's supposed to be."

"Sometimes they turn the lights off in parts of the jail. Keeps the inmates confused. I guess someone did a study once and concluded that confused and dangerous is better than only dangerous."

"But why is this office dark?"

"Sometimes they screw up. Darken the wrong sections."

Gillian remembered feeling her heart pound in her chest. Remembered doing a lousy job of calming her own nerves. "That's...reassuring."

"Don't be scared, Gillian," he told her, taking her hand into his massive palm. Everything about him was gentle and calm. "No one can get in here. The doors are sealed shut electronically. And if they do...I'm here to sit on them."

She'd laughed nervously. "Is that your solution to everything?"

"Pretty much."

"Does this...happen often?"

"No. Maybe once every couple of months. I'm sure this one is for you. Initiation."

Gillian bit her lip. "Thanks..."

She wasn't sure how long they sat like that, on her couch in absolute darkness. It probably wasn't very long. Maybe twenty minutes. But she'd been glad that Alex was here with her then. Just as she was glad to see his face whenever he popped into her office these days. Even more so when he brought her what was left of one of Maurice's gourmet creations. Like the piri-piri chicken she held in her hands.

Alex told her that the first lockdown was the most terrifying. That after four or five she'd be used to them. Have a nap on her couch when they happened.

Gillian wasn't entirely sure she'd ever get to that stage.

For now she was still getting used to having a work colleague who enjoyed spoiling her.

"Hey..." Alex's hand was waving in front of her face. "What are you thinking?"

His voice brought her thoughts back to the present. "Was thinking about the lockdown a few days ago. That I'm glad you were here."

"Me too. It's not every day I get to cuddle with a beautiful woman in the dark."

Gillian chuckled. "Whatever."

They'd only known each other for a few weeks but it felt like much longer. There was an instant connection that wasn't forced or awkward and Gillian was happy to have found a friend here.

He gave her a mock salute. "I'm out. Meeting with Doug."

"Lucky you..." she mumbled after he'd already ambled out the door.

Gillian checked the time on her cell phone and grabbed a stack of folders from her desk. She was nearly late for her first patient. She opened the first folder and removed two sheets of paper from it. The rap sheets. After her first few patients she'd decided to hold off reading their criminal records before assessing them. That no matter how much she prided herself on being able to steer clear of biases, she knew she was human.

She did read them afterwards, before she made her final recommendations.

But she knew that it went against official procedure. That Doug Penn would salivate at the chance to give her a slap on the wrist for it.

_But first I have to get caught. _

Gillian smiled at the thought.

_A few weeks of working in a prison and already I'm thinking like a criminal. Cal would be proud. _

Her desk phone rang and Gillian saw a familiar number on the call display.

_Funny that you should call the second that I'm thinking of you..._

Her first instinct was to let it go to voicemail. It was what she'd done with just about every call from him in the last couple of months.

"Cal's not the only one who works at the Lightman Group," she reminded herself. "Not the only one who could be calling."

She picked it up.

"CDF Psychology office," she answered. "Dr. Foster here."

_"Foster?" _

"Hi, Cal."

_"I know you're probably busy, won't keep you long, but I really need a favour. Not for me...for the Lightman Group."_

"Cal..." she wanted to cut him off. Of course that's why he was calling. Because the company needed her. Why else?

_"Look, swear I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."_

Gillian sat back down at her desk. "What is it?"

There was a momentary silence on the other side.

_"Bloody hell...can we start this again? How are you?"_

A slow smile spread across her lips. "I'm good. You?"

_"I'm a plonker who just calls and says I need a favour without so much as letting you get a word in. But you know, lately...you haven't been in much of a mood to talk so I figured I better get to the point...while I still had you on the other end..." _

He was rambling and he sounded vaguely nervous and she wasn't used to that from him at all.

"Are_ you_ really okay?"

There was another pause. _"Yeah, yeah I'm alright."_ She couldn't see him but she could hear the smile at the end of it. "_It's...nice. To hear your voice."_

"What do you need me to do?"

Gillian listened as he told her about the case that Wallowski had been trying to build against a man named Hunter Kline. Oddly enough, the name sounded familiar to her. She could have sworn she'd met him once or twice at one of the many social functions Alec used to drag her to, a lifetime ago. She remembered a flashy lawyer who could work a room like a pro.

Child pornography. It should have shocked her. But it didn't really.

_"We need someone from the Lightman Group to do the assessment. Even if it's all a charade. But it'll give Wallowski's case a fighting chance."_

Gillian felt her cheeks burn at the mention of Wallowski's name. Wondering if this was the real reason he was doing it. To help his girlfriend.

Not that it really mattered. If what Cal said about Kline was true, her wounded pride could take a back seat this time. It was a few hours of her time. Of course she'd do it.

_"It'll have to be done at police headquarters. I'll text you with the exact time." _

"Sure."

_"Appreciate this. I owe you one." _

"Welcome."

There was another awkward pause and for a moment she wondered whether he'd hung up.

_"Foster?" _

"Yes?"

_"I...we miss you around here." _

Gillian swallowed, hating all the things that his voice could make her feel. "I should go."

Because she had to see a patient who had nowhere else to go. Nowhere else to be in the next two years. Her excuse for having to hang up was so silly it almost made her wish that Cal would call her on it.

_"'Right. Won't keep you then. Take care, luv."_


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

_Lightman Residence _

The lap top was in front of him while he sat on the couch, with the TV on. There was a bottle of beer on the coffee table next to a container of take out food.

He smiled when he saw his daughter's name come up on the chat window he'd left open because he was waiting and hoping for just that. He knew he could text her too, but he didn't always want to be the annoying, pestering Dad.

She was the one who initiated their cyber conversation.

-hey dad, watcha doing?

-Writing my book

-LOL. yeah, right. as if. did you & gillian kiss and make up yet?

Cal chuckled. She was a nosy little thing.

-We got married last week

-ha ha ha. i'm serious!

-No. Still in the doghouse

-really? sorry. :( she'll come around. i'm sure of it

-Tell me about your classes

-are you deflecting?

Cal shook his head. He really did let her spend too much time at the Lightman Group while she was growing up.

He could have told her that he'd be seeing Foster tomorrow. That she'd agreed to help him on a DC police case. But he didn't want to get either of their hopes up.

-No. Just want to know what's going on in my daughter's life.

-your daughter just aced her first wastewater treatment processes quiz

Cal smiled. Of course she did. Those were his genes talking.

-That's great. Proud of you.

- :) thanks

-How's campus life?

-good. gotta head out and meet a friend tonight

-Friend?

-GIRL friend

-Okay. I believe you.

-can't spot lies in instant messaging yet?

-Funny

-you sure you're okay?

-Yes. Lightman Group is still standing and so is the house and I haven't been arrested this week

-now who's funny? gotta go, dad. don't give up on gillian, okay?_ promise_?

Cal hesitated before typing what he knew she wanted to see. Because it was easier than the truth.

-Okay. I won't. Love you.

-love you too

Her name faded from his screen and with that he turned off his computer, pleased that the wait had been worth it.

* * *

><p><em>DC Central Detention Facility<em>

_The next day_

Gillian Foster grabbed her coat and handed Alex the folder that was sitting on her desk. "Thanks for this. I owe you one."

"You do," he replied. "Especially since you know how difficult it is for me to lie to Doug."

He said it with such a straight face it made her chuckle. "Right."

His face spread into a giant grin. "I probably owe you one for giving me the chance."

"Seriously. Thank you."

"I want to know about the case," he told her, serious too now. "That's my price for seeing... who is it again?" Alex Almeida opened her folder. "Ah yes...your claustrophobic armed robber."

"This case doesn't have anything to do with reading micro-expressions," Gillian reminded her giant colleague as she zipped up her leather coat. "It's why Lightman asked me for my help. He needs someone to do what you and I do here. Diagnose a criminal."

"I could have done_ that_!"

"He needed someone from the Lightman Group to do it."

"Ah..."

Gillian could easily read the disappointment in his face. She hadn't known until the subject came up a few more times, just how much her colleague admired Cal Lightman. Alex Almeida had done more than read Lightman's books. He could quote them at will. Alex didn't say as much, but Gillian knew it baffled him that she chose to work here, when she could still be at the Lightman Group. Why choose a thankless job like this when she could be working somewhere exciting and challenging?

"I can talk to Cal, see if there's something for you at the Lightman Group. God knows he could use some people with people skills there."

"He also needs people who can interpret his science."

"You can learn that. It takes time, and I'm still not great at it either, but you _can_ learn to read micro-expressions."

"I tried once," he admitted. Gillian could hear the hint of embarrassment in his voice. "Took a six-month course from a guy called Jack Rader. I was terrible at it."

"Maybe...you just needed a different teacher."

"This guy...he was really good, Gillian. It was an expensive course."

_I bet. _Gillian winced. _And I bet he convinced you that half of Lightman's theories were his own. _

"Look, I have to run," she told him, as she swiped the lock on her door with the electronic key card, spotting two guards walking by outside as she opened it. "But we'll get back to this. I'm not convinced that failing Rader's class means you should give up on micro-expressions."

She thought about it as she walked down the corridor, passing by a dozen cell doors. One of the inmates had his face pressed against an opening in the metal door, snarling at her as she went by. Further down the corridor, she saw four guards dragging another inmate out of his cell.

Her heartbeat quickened at the sight and so did her steps, just before she turned right and flashed her ID at a guard who opened another door for her. Felt herself relax as she slowly made her way out of the inner halls of the prison. One more check-point to go.

She thought of Alex Almeida as she approached the last guard, walked through a metal detector and smiled at the young Puerto Rican guard she'd gotten to know by name.

"Gracias, Doctor Gillian," he told her, handing her back her purse after a perfunctory check.

"Thanks, Rodrigo."

She selfishly didn't want to lose her only friend here. But at some point she'd talk to Cal about it. If there was something for Alex at the Lightman Group, he'd jump at the chance.

The thought made her smile as she finally left the building and put on her sunglasses to ward off the brightness of the late afternoon sun.

* * *

><p><em>First District Police Station, Washington DC<em>

Cal Lightman was pacing and he knew it. Didn't care that it was starting to annoy Wallowski.

"Did you remind your boss what our requirements are?"

"What?"

"I want him cuffed and shackled to an immovable object when Foster goes in there. I don't trust that pig not to pull another stunt like he did last time."

"I thought only you got your clients worked up like that."

Lightman stuck his hands back into his jean pockets. Deeper this time. "_Did_ you tell her?"

"Of course I did," Wallowski answered. "We're not taking any chances this time."

Cal watched as Kline entered the interrogation room with his lawyer. Cal knew that Kline couldn't see him or Wallowski from the double-sided glass but Kline stared through the glass, right in Lightman's direction, as if he knew where he was standing. Hatred. That's what he read in his stare. It gave him goose-bumps. Made him want to call the whole thing off.

_What if they don't win the case against you? What if you don't end up in prison? You're a bloody psychopath who might come after those who tried to put you here, just to see if you can get away with it. _

"If Foster's assessment is what helps this case stick, the guy's gonna harbour a serious grudge," he told Wallowski. "Against my partner."

"Once we start the ball rolling, he'll end up in prison," Wallowski told him.

"Are you so sure about that?"

"Yes," she lied and it sent a shiver up Cal's spine.

"I changed my mind. I don't want to do this," he told her.

"What?"

"Find another shrink who'll tell you what we already know. That he's a psychopath who likes to fondle little kids."

"_Cal_?" Wallowski got into his face, the way he sometimes did to her. "What are you talking about? We need someone from the Lightman Group! That was the agreement we made."

"Alright then. Let's get going."

That announcement came from a third voice behind them and it made them both spin around.

Cal stared at her. Wearing grey dress pants and a sleek, black leather jacket, his ex-partner looked casual and relaxed. "Foster?"

"Hi Cal," she stepped towards them and held out her hand to Wallowski. "Sharon."

"Foster, it's good to see you. Thank you. For doing this."

"You're welcome."

"Did you read the case file?" Cal asked her. "Carefully?"

Gillian nodded. "Yes. I watched a video of your interview with him as well."

"So you're going to assess him and that'll tell us he's a pedophile?" Wallowski asked.

"Not exactly...there's no specific assessments for pedophilia. The closest thing is something called a penile plethysmograph."

"A what?"

"Simply put? It's a device that measures blood flow to the penis when a subject is shown...suggestive photos or videos. But we won't be doing that."

"Why not?"

"The accuracy rate is low," Cal explained. "And it's not legally admissible."

"I'll be doing more basic personality diagnostic tests as well as a PCL," Gillian told her.

"What's that?"

"Sorry...psychopathy checklist. It's also known as the Hare checklist. The closest thing we have to diagnosing psychopaths, aside from checking levels of skin conductance after electric shocks."

"You're losing me."

"A common trait among psychopaths is a lack of fear," Gillian explained. "They're chronically under-aroused. Give a normal person a few electric shocks and he'll start to fear that there are more coming. A psychopath doesn't."

"But you're not doing any of that?"

"No." Gillian assured her. "No reading micro-expression, no fancy tests that won't hold up in a court of law. I'm only going to try and determine if he has any personality disorders that could potentially result in the deviant behaviour that you're accusing him of. According to the guidelines Cal gave me, that's what your boss and her lawyer want, right?"

"Yes," Wallowski agreed.

Truthfully, Cal didn't care so much about what the police chief wanted at this point. If she'd just admit to her mistake they wouldn't even be doing this. He turned to Gillian. "The guy's a violent nut, Gill. Don't rile him, 'kay?"

She met his gaze and he was relieved to see that she wasn't rejecting his advice because she was still pissed with him. "I won't. Is he ready?" she asked.

"He is," Wallowski told her. "He's in there with his lawyer. Cuffed and shackled. Whenever you're ready."

"Take your time," Cal told her. Outwardly she looked calm but he could start to see some unease that wasn't visible to Wallowski. Or anyone else. "Let him wait."

His words resulted in a smile from her. Funny. That she was the one putting him at ease. It was almost like old times.

"Thought you just said not to rile him?" Foster then looked at Wallowski. "I'm ready."

Wallowski walked her into the interrogation room and gave Cal a worried look when she came back out. "I need this to go smoothly."

Cal didn't really care about that part either right now. He watched Foster as she sat down across from Kline. Watched the reaction on her face when she met Hunter's gaze.

Fear.

_Because you can see what I can see. The unadulterated rage. The hatred. The things he's able to mask to everyone else. _

"Doctor Foster," he drawled as he leaned on the table, clanking his handcuffs on its metal top. "Nice to see I got the prettier half of the Lightman Group this time."

"Mr. Kline..." His lawyer tried to cut in but Kline wouldn't have it.

"I'm hoping your fixations aren't as disturbing as those of your partner. That this won't become a discussion about the size of my penis."

"Hadn't planned on it. No."

"Good."

"Unless you'd like to. Although I hear that might make for a short conversation."

Cal heard Wallowski chuckle.

_What the hell are you doing? _

Cal focused on Kline's face and what he saw made his gut churn.

_I can see what you want to do to her._

"That was good," Wallowski told him.

"No. It wasn't. It was reckless."

"Maybe you're not the only one capable of riling them after all. Remember that getting him riled up isn't such a bad thing. It'll make him slip up more easily. I'm sure she knows that." His lack of a response made Wallowski turn around. "He can't hurt her, Cal. Not physically possible."

_Not now he can't. _

Hunter Kline gave Gillian an icy smile. "You have his sense of humour. No wonder you're partners. Too bad you just shot your professional credibility in the foot with that remark."

Gillian signalled for Wallowski to turn on the video recordings. "Detective Wallowski..I think we're ready to start now."

_Jesus Christ, Gill. Do you have a death wish? _

Kline hissed at his lawyer. "I want that first remark added to the transcript."

Gillian looked at him. "What first remark?"

"I tried to stop you," his lawyer told him.

"You bi..." Kline glared at Foster, stopping himself just in time. Taking a deep breath, he slowly unclenched his fist and offered her a politician's practiced smile. "I'm ready whenever you are Dr. Foster."

"That was creepy," Wallowski pointed. "Did you see how quickly he switched that off?"

_It's still there. You just can't see it anymore. _

Cal couldn't tear his eyes away from him. He stood and stared into the interrogation room while Gillian went to work.

* * *

><p><em>Later <em>

Wallowski brought him a coffee.

Cal took it wordlessly, without so much as a thanks.

"You can watch this in the next room, you know. There's a video feed."

"I'm good."

She stifled a yawn. "How much longer is this going to take? It's been over two hours."

"I figure she's got another hour or so to go."

"Who are you watching?" She asked. "Kline or Foster."

"Kline mostly. He's the psychopath remember."

"Foster doesn't seem bothered by him."

_Yeah she is. _"She's good at this," Cal mumbled.

"I'm glad," Wallowski told him, sitting down at the table with her coffee. "Because he's good too. I wouldn't put it past him to be able to fool her and the test."

"These tests come with control questions. They're not as easy to fool as cop shows would have you believe."

Wallowski sighed. "Hope you're right." She gestured to the table. "Come, have a seat."

Cal ignored the invitation.

Sitting was the last thing he was capable of.

* * *

><p><em>Later <em>

Just over three hours later, it was finally over.

Gillian signalled to Wallowski who went into the room and escorted Kline and his lawyer out.

Cal snuck in as soon as the others left. Hunched down in a chair next to her.

"You okay?"

"Yeah..."

He could see that she was drained. It was exhausting to put on a facade for over three hours in order to convince Kline that she had the upper hand.

While sliding the assessment papers into a large white folder, Gillian cocked her head sideways to look at him. "You know, one of my patients at the jail this morning beat up his grandmother when he was fourteen. Then he stabbed his girlfriend to death in a drug-induced rage a month before his nineteenth birthday. But if I had to choose which guy to meet in a dark alley tonight? Between him and Kline? I'd take the teenage killer."

Cal knew what she meant. Knew she would have seen much of the same things on Kline's face as he did. Even though he hadn't been convicted of a single crime, neither of them doubted that he was capable.

A lop-sided smile lit up her face. "With a little luck I'll get to see him again soon at the jail."

That thought hadn't even occurred to Cal until she mentioned it. That that's where Kline might end up.

Foster must've read the unease on his face. "Don't worry, I'll pass him off to my colleagues. Three hours in a room with him was enough to last a lifetime."

_Or just come back to the Lightman Group. Then you won't have to worry about it. _

It's what he wanted to say. But he didn't. He'd done enough pushing these last few months and all he'd succeeded in was pushing her away.

Given the way their last encounter went, just being in a room together and having a casual conversation again, felt good. Even if he wasn't saying much.

"You can tell Wallowski I'll send her the results tomorrow."

"I'll let her know."

"Cal..."

He leaned in her direction, unable to stop himself from reading her. "Yeah?"

"I'm sorry about the other day. When you came to my place."

"S'alright, luv."

"No, it wasn't."

Cal shrugged his shoulders. "Come back to the Group and I'll forgive you."

"Nice try." Her smile didn't quite hide the melancholy in her eyes. It made him want to try and wrench the truth out of her all over again. Took every ounce of his willpower not to.

_I can handle your anger, Gill. Any time. But it kills me that you won't trust me with the truth. _

"Can I buy you a drink?" he offered. "A thank you. For tonight."

_Say yes. _

"Rain check?"

"Sure." Cal kept his poker face, not wanting her to see his disappointment. "Gonna hold you to that."

She got up and went to put on her jacket. Cal saw her struggling with one of the sleeves so he pushed himself off his chair and held it up for her, allowing her to slip her arm inside. While she still had her back to him, he rested his hands on her shoulders as he inched half a step closer into her space.

They stayed there longer than he intended. Because holding on to her made his heart beat faster. Made him want to pull her closer still.

_I want you so badly. Didn't even realize it 'til I lost you. _

His hold on her tightened a little, before he let go. Because she didn't turn around to face him yet, he gently pulled her hair out from under the collar of her jacket.

"Thanks," she said softly when she did turn to face him. She was standing so close to him now and for the first time in a long time, there wasn't the slightest trace of anger in her face.

Cal wasn't aware that one of his hands was resting on her arm again. There was something so natural about touching her. His body did it instinctively before his mind was even aware.

Gillian didn't fight it this time. He felt her relax at his touch and when his eyes met hers what he saw made his heart swell.

_Happiness. _

"Thank god that's over," Wallowski's voice announced, cutting through the silence as she stepped back into the room.

She took in the scene and Cal turned towards her, catching the sudden guilty look on her face.

"Sorry...I didn't mean to..."

But it was too late. Foster had already taken a step away from him. "I was just leaving."

"No, really," Wallowski insisted. "If you two need to, you know...discuss this or something. Take whatever time you need. No one else is using this room."

"I'll e-mail you the results tomorrow," Foster told her before turning her gaze towards him one last time. But he couldn't read her anymore. Whatever happened between them a minute ago long gone again. "Good night, Cal."

"Night, luv."

He sat back down after Foster left, slouched on the chair and propped his legs up on the table as his left hand massaged his temple. "Anyone ever tell you that you've got seriously lousy timing?"

Wallowski winced. "I'm so sorry."

"S'alright." His screw ups weren't Wallowski's fault. She worked here after all.

"What happened between you two just now?" she asked him.

"I asked Foster to go out for a drink and she told me she was up for a rain check." Cal grinned. "Last time I tried to get back on her good side, I got shoved into a wall."

"_What?"_

It was hard to be upset after what he'd seen in Foster's eyes. Even if it was there only for a split second. It _was _there. Cal was sure of it. And it made him giddy with happiness of his own. Made him laugh even. "Now that's what I call progress."


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19 **

_DC Central Detention Facility_

_Two weeks later _

After seeing the red message light, Gillian Foster pressed the text button on her phone.

Smiled when she saw the message.

-hi Gillian! ! how's it going?

She didn't have to look at the name of the sender. The multiple exclamation marks always gave Emily Lightman away.

-I'm good. How are you? How's school?

-school would be even better if dad didn't keep calling and texting and distracting me!

Gillian grinned.

-He loves you

-he's bored

-Maybe that too but he misses you!

-can you distract him for me? so i can study in peace? a mind is a terrible thing to waste, Gillian. do it for my grades? please?

Gillian laughed out loud.

-Blackmail, Em!

-so you'll do it?

-No :)

-i'll invite u to my convocation...and buy u cupcakes.

-That is tempting.

-so that's a yes then?

-Nice try

There was no quick response after that and Gillian wondered if that meant an end to their banter. That the next message wouldn't be so light-hearted. Gillian knew that, jokes aside, what happened between her and Cal hurt Emily too.

-are u ever going 2 forgive him?

Gillian bit her lip, not sure how to respond. Part of her wanted to forgo this texting business and just dial Emily's number. She was so much better with voices than she was with the written word. Writing was Cal's forte not hers.

-There's nothing to forgive, Em. There's some things that need to change between us and I need a little more time, but your Dad and I, we're going to be okay

-i'm not twelve, Gill.

-It's the truth.

-ok. but don't wait too long. u and dad are getting old. it's not like u have all this time to waste

-Thanks, Em

-LOL...just kidding. ok, mostly. u know i love u.

-Love you too

-btw...you're still invited to my graduation even if you're still not talking 2 dad four years from now. mark the date in your calendar

Even if she hated texting, she loved that it made her feel like Emily Lightman was still very much a part of her life. Made her realize how much she missed her, especially after all that she'd done for her after the accident.

-I'll be there. Promise

-good. gotta go. talk to u soon.

-For sure. Miss you. xoxo

She hadn't even put away her phone when Dr. Doug Penn barged into her office. Unannounced, as usual. It irritated her when he did that and Gillian figured that's precisely why he did it.

He stared at the Blackberry in her hand.

"I hope that was a business call."

"It wasn't," Gillian shot back. Two could play this game. Personal calls weren't forbidden, even if her boss liked to pretend they were.

He tossed a folder on her desk. "Tell me you were joking about this recommendation, Dr. Foster."

Gillian had no idea what he was talking about. Had to open the folder to find out. Recognition dawning on her when she saw the name inside.

"Did you recommend an early parole for DeShawn White?"

"Yes," Gillian did remember him now. The twenty-one-year old. Doing ten years for armed robbery. The session she had with him last week. It was hard to keep track. There were so many inmates. So many sessions. They were already starting to blur together. "I did."

Dr. Douglas Penn took the folder from her hands.

"I'm going to read an excerpt from the transcript of your session for you, Dr. Foster." He cleared his throat with a little cough. "There's a question here, from you: 'DeShawn what's the first thing you would do if you were granted an early release?' His response was, 'Rob a store that's got worse security system than the last one?'"

Gillian closed her eyes with a groan. "It was a _joke_."

She remembered fighting back a smirk at the response. Remembered feeling a sense of triumph for having eased the man out of the one-word answers from his previous session.

"It's here in black and white."

This time she grabbed the folder from Penn's hands. "If you're going to insist on black and white, why don't I read the part that comes after that?" Her eyes scanned the paper until she saw where he'd plucked the sentence from. " ' Seriously, doc? I wanna spend a whole day with my son. Wanna watch him breathe when he sleeps at night. Hear him scream his lungs out when he wants food. Wanna hold him 'til he stops crying. Wanna change his diapers for the first time. Feed him. That's what I wanna do. I want more than twenty minutes behind bars with my boy. I want it so bad and I swear to God I'd never do anything to mess that up again' "

"You think an attorney is going to read that part if he goes out and robs another business the second we let him out?"

"He's not going to rob another store!"

"You know this how?"

"I believe him!"

"Why? Was it something about the sound of his voice when he talked to you?"

Gillian bit her tongue, fighting back the urge to say what she really wanted.

"No," she said softly. "Because everything he's done here according to your own records has shown a desire to better himself. He's shown remorse for his actions. Written letter of apology to those affected. He's made the effort to continue his education behind bars and..."

She didn't get a chance to finish. Penn cut her off mid-sentence.

"Well, then he should be smart enough not to joke about robbing another store." He frowned as he met her gaze. "I'm overriding your recommendation due to a self-confessed probability of recurring offense. You can thank me later."

"I don't agree..." she countered but Penn had already turned his back on her. Was already making his way out the door, as unceremoniously as he'd entered it a few minutes earlier.

"I didn't ask if you did," was the last thing she heard him mumble.

She watched him leave, speechless, mouth hanging open, until finally the anger took over and it made her want to kick something. Made her pick up a pencil case and throw it against the wall in frustration.

It nearly hit Alex Almeida when he entered her office.

He ducked and raised his arm in front of his face.

"Wow..." he observed after the object crashed to floor, away from him, half a dozen pens rolling on the ground next to it. He looked at her, amused. "You'r so sexy when you're angry, Gillian. You almost make me want to switch sides."

Gillian cringed. "I'm sorry."

"For making me want to switch sides?"

She smiled a lop-sided smile. It was hard to stay angry around Alex. "No. For almost killing you."

"You're going to have to throw a little harder and pick up something bigger if you really want to kill me. Saw Doug leaving. Guessing it was him you were trying to kill." Alex made a disappointed face. "Too bad you missed." Then he handed her a folder. "I came by to cash in on my favour. Remember when I took one of your cases two weeks ago so you could do that stuff for the Lightman Group..."

"Yeah...of course. I'll take care of it."

"Not until tomorrow. Maurice has a big reception at his restaurant tomorrow night and I want to leave early, to go home and get glamorous before I join him."

"I can do it today," she told him. She had no plans and could stay late. In fact it still felt weird sometimes, to work only an eight hour shift. Still didn't quite know what to do with all the extra time on her hands.

"He's getting patched up by the medics today. Won't be ready for us until tomorrow."

Gillian raised her eyebrows, letting him know she didn't understand. Every now and then he'd make casual references to something that went right over her head.

"He got beat up pretty bad," Alex explained. "Apparently word got around that he's a pedophile."

"Why wasn't he in solitary then?" she questioned. That much she'd learned. Those in for child molestation weren't given much interaction with other inmates. Precisely so they wouldn't get beaten to a pulp. And when an inmate did get beaten up there was always an obligatory psych consultation afterwards. To make sure he wasn't suicidal. To see whether he was mentally stable enough to handle solitary confinement.

" 'Cause that's not what he's in for. He's in here for aggravated assault."

Gillian opened the folder and felt a chill run down her spine when she saw the name.

_Hunter Kline. _

"Alex..."

"What is it?"

"I'm sorry. I can't do this one."

"Do you know him?" He eyed her. Must've caught some of the fear on her face.

"He's the guy I went to assess for that Lightman Group case two weeks ago. Cal Lightman is the guy he assaulted! But... that isn't what he's supposed to be in here for!" Her mind tried to piece together what could have happened. Hunter Kline wasn't supposed to be in here yet. Detective Wallowski had only just started putting together a case against him and if it came to a trial that could take months. Not weeks. Unless...

_Unless she couldn't put together a case and that's all they had left to nail him for. An assault charge._

"Are you serious?" Alex sat down across from her, reaching over into the bowl of candies that sat on her desk. Helping himself to a couple. "This guy assaulted Dr. Lightman? That's crazy."

Gillian shuddered as she thought back to those hours she spent with Kline at the police station. At this things she could see on his face. The unspoken threats he kept shooting in her direction. "I'm sorry, Alex. I can't take this guy for you. Not this one. I'll take any other case off your hands."

"No worries," he told her, unwrapping one of her candies. "I put your name down for Kline on the list tomorrow. But I'll change it."

_Please. _

"Thanks."

She saw the concern on his face as he studied her. "I haven't seen any guy freak you out like this. And I've seen Doug assign you some major creeps."

Gillian slipped into a wool sweater. It suddenly felt so much colder in here. "I don't know what it is about Kline," she admitted. "He didn't even have any prior convictions since coming in here. But there's something about him..."

"Hey...it's okay, Gillian. I'll keep him," Alex assured her. "I'll find another criminal for you."

* * *

><p><em>Lightman Group<em>

"Look, I'm sorry it turned out that way," Cal Lightman told her.

"I didn't come here for sympathy," Wallowski reminded him. Her hands were in her jean pockets and she made no move to sit down on the couch in his office. Cal sensed it wasn't going to be a long visit and he was glad. He had a flight to catch after all. "I wanted to tell you what happened. In person because you and Foster...you both did what you could to help me with this." She sighed. "Even if all I got in the end was a lousy assault charge. Six months. It's a joke. He'll probably be out in three. If that."

"You're welcome," he shot back. "Aren't you glad I'm so bloody aggravating?"

She mustered a meagre smile. "You know we even had several cops in Bangkok who were ready to help us build this case. There's some teenage prostitutes who were left in really bad shape after Kline went there this spring. They're willing to talk."

Cal held up his hand wanting her to stop. She kept telling him more about this guy than he cared to know. Kept putting images in his head that he didn't want there.

"Let it go," he said softly. "It's not your fault they killed the first search you did."

"Or that a second search warrant was pointless." She sighed. "Of course we found nothing. It's just so damn unfair."

"It's an unfair world, luv."

"It is."

"You did what you could," he reminded her. "And more."

"Wasn't enough."

Cal met her dark eyes and let her know he understood.

"Will you let Foster know?"

"Sure."

Her gaze lingered on him. "How are things with you two? Any better?"

Cal shrugged. "We haven't talked. Not since that evening at the station." Cal could see that she wanted more of an explanation but the truth was he didn't really have one to give her. Even if he wanted to. Which he didn't really. "Decided to stop pushing and give her whatever time and space she wants."

"Okay..." Wallowski frowned and he could tell that she didn't agree with his tactics. Not that it mattered. For once he was going to go with his guts as far as Foster was concerned.

She spotted the duffel bag that sat on his couch. "Are you going somewhere?"

"San Francisco."

"You're going to see Emily?"

"That's right...and she doesn't know it," he added with a grin. "Surprise visit from Dad to make sure her flat mate really is a girl. Got worried after I met a guy called Dana last week."

Wallowski was about to say something but Ria Torres poked her head into his office, interrupting them. "Dr. Lightman, can I talk to you for a sec?"

"Sure..."

Wallowski leaned over to give him a kiss on the cheek. "Was just leaving anyway. When are you back?" she asked.

"Tomorrow night."

"You're going to California for one night?" she asked incredulously.

"That's right," he told her. "Housing inspection and breakfast with my daughter."

"You're crazy."

"So I've been told." He gave her a little wave as she left and Torres entered his office.

"You're really leaving me in charge?"

"For one day," he reiterated. "How much damage can you do in one day?"

Torres wasn't amused. "I don't mind, you know. Just wish you would have let me know or something."

"Told you this morning didn't I?"

"That's not exactly giving me a head's up!"

Cal looked at her in disbelief. In spite of all his skills at reading people, most of the time he couldn't figure out the bulk of them. Including his prodigy. Ria Torres was smart and ambitious and didn't hesitate to let him know it. He'd have expected her to jump at the chance not freak out.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "Next time I'll put a notice in the paper a month beforehand."

She rolled her eyes. "Are you going to be on your cell?" she asked.

"No," he told her. "I'm going to be in California. _For one day_."

"If there's an emergency?"

"Emergency?" Cal stared at her. What possible emergency could there be? He wasn't asking her to run a hospital. "If the building's on fire you can call 911."

Torres threw her arms in the air. "Fine. If you can't be serious I won't be either..."

Cal cringed. Maybe he could be less of a plonker sometimes. "Torres, you're gonna be fine. And if you really need someone nearby, call Foster."

"_Foster_? Foster doesn't even work her anymore!"

"She still owns half the place. I'm sure she'll wanna know if you're blowing it up."

Lightman caught Loker's dark wavy head of hair in the doorway of his office.

"Or you could call me," he offered.

"There you go," he told Ria. "You can call Loker."

He grabbed his duffel bag and leaned in towards her ear, whispering. "After you call Foster."

She gave him a real smile this time. "Have a good trip. Say hi to Emily from us."

"Will do," he mumbled, already walking down the corridor, his back to them as he threw up one arm in a good-bye wave.

* * *

><p><em>Ronald Reagan National Airport <em>

_Later_

Cal Lightman thought he would come close to missing his flight and instead the damn airplane had the audacity to be late coming in and therefore, he'd just been informed, it would be even later going out.

Instead of nearly missing the plane, he'd now be stuck over an hour sitting in a departure lounge, debating whether to spend money on an overpriced beverage.

He wished he'd brought a book. But he couldn't be bothered to make the effort of choosing one from the nearest news stand.

Instead, he ambled down to the nearest fast food counter and grabbed a pre-made sandwich along with a cup of tea in a Styrofoam cup. Now that he had the time for it, he might as well have dinner since they weren't likely to serve him anything but a bite sized bag of pretzels once he was in the air.

After paying for it at the register, Cal threw his duffel bag on the ground and sat down at a table next to a floor-to-ceiling window, staring out into the tarmac as an Air Canada jet rolled into the gate right next to him, before glancing back to check the time on his Rolex. Not even ten minutes had passed since he'd decided to leave the departure lounge and grab some food.

Patience wasn't his strong suit and unwrapping his sandwich suddenly made him lose his appetite. It looked like someone had thrown it together a week ago. The lettuce and tomato bits were limp and soggy, sticking to the bread like cling wrap.

Cal hesitated, about to take a bite, then he changed his mind and set it back down on the tabletop, pulling his cell phone out from his pocket instead. He dialled her number.

It rang only twice before she answered, the sound of her voice changing his mood with one word.

_"Hi Cal."_

"Just wanted to remind you the offer for a drink is still on. That there's no expiry date."

_"Ah...good to know." _

There was no anger or irritation in her voice. Only a bit of amusement and it made him smile. She was happy to hear from him. Just as she'd been happy to have him in her space that day at the police station.

"It's good anytime. 'Til I die."

_"That gives me a lot of time to take you up on it." _

He chuckled. "Maybe I should put an expiry date on it then."

She said something in reply, but he couldn't hear it. A noisy, beeping cart full of luggage whizzed by his table.

_"Where are you?" _

"Airport. Waiting for my flight to San Fran."

_"You're going to see Emily?" _

"Yeah, just one night."

_"California? For one night?" _

"You don't trust me to leave Torres in charge for longer than that do you?"

He heard her laugh. _"I don't know. I think she might do a good job of it." _

"You think you could give her quick call tomorrow, to make sure?"

_"Yeah...I can do that. If you do me a favour in return." _

"Sure."

_"Give Emily a big hug from me." _

Cal smiled. "Done."

It felt nice. To have a normal conversation with his best friend about nothing. The kind they used to have on a daily basis and that he took for granted until he couldn't have them anymore. It almost made him forget why he called her.

"Wallowski stopped by the office today..."

There was silence on the other end, so he went on. "She wanted to tell me about what happened with Kline after you did the assessment. Apparently they dismissed the findings of the first search they did. Gave her a second search warrant, but of course that was a joke. They didn't find anything at that point. So the only thing they had left to nail him for was the broken nose he gave me at the station. He tried to fight that too, tried to use his legal connections to speed up the proceedings and get the whole thing thrown out. He tried to argue he was needled and provoked but Wallowski said the judge who gave him the time was a guy he'd pissed off one to many times as a lawyer. Shocking isn't it? Kline pissing off a judge."

_"I know...he's at the jail already." _

"He is?" It shouldn't have shocked him the way it did. It was the closest prison to where Kline lived and where he was tried. Why would they ship him elsewhere?

_"Apparently word got out that he likes little kids and he was beat up pretty bad last night. They'll move him into solitary once he's out of the infirmary. Make sure he has virtually no interaction with the other inmates." _

Cal swallowed. As if Hunter Kline needed more fuel for his rage. He might not have eaten a bite of his sandwich yet, but he suddenly felt a heavy, leaden feeling in his gut when he thought of the guy in the same building as Foster.

"Tell me you're not going to have any contact with the guy."

_"I'm not going to have any contact with the guy." _

He wished that Gillian was standing across from him, so that he'd know with certainty that she was telling the truth. Wished he could tell just by listening, the same way that she could.

_"Cal..."_

Maybe his silence made his doubts obvious to her.

_"He terrifies me. I can't even put a finger on it. Or a diagnostic label. I wont go near him again. Promise."_

"Good." Her assurance relieved him. Even if what he really wanted was to have her out of that building for the next six months and back under his roof at the Lightman Group. Even if it was sheer arrogance to think he could protect her from the likes of Hunter Kline better than a whole building full of armed guards and steel bars.

He heard a noise in the background and then Gillian cursing. It made him grin because she did it so rarely.

_"Sorry...was about to make dinner and forgot I turned on the stove after putting the oil in the frying pan. Have to go." _

"Go on then," he told her. "Bet whatever you burn will still taste better than my airport sandwich."

_"Not so sure about that. Have a good trip and don't forget the hug for Emily." _

"I won't. Thanks, luv."

Lightman ended the call and finally picked up his soggy sandwich and took a tentative bite. It was good that they could talk again. Made him feel like he hadn't entirely lost his anchor. But it was a double-edged sword too. Because every encounter, every touch and every conversation, ended with him missing her even more than he did before it began.


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: **Sorry for the posting hiatus! Life got a little crazy this past month, plus this was a longish chapter that took me a while. Thanks for your patience, for reading and for leaving me your thoughts. :)

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 20 <strong>

_The next day _

_Washington, DC_

Gillian Foster got the text from Alex Almeida just as the escalator brought her out of the darkness of the Metro station and back into daylight.

-Sorry! Had 2 call in. Completely lost my voice last night. Texted Dog 2 make sure u don't get Kline. But u will end up with at least 2 of my guys today. I owe u again. :(

Gillian texted him back as she walked down the street.

-Okay...I'll try to get sick before Christmas so I can cash in. Take it easy and get better!

She waited a minute to see if he'd respond and then dialled Torres' number when he didn't. Gillian liked the short walk from the station to the jail. Even now when it was cold enough to call for a wool coat and gloves. The heels on her boots were high but not that high that she couldn't walk comfortably in them. Most of the heels she wore these days were a little lower than they used to be at the Lightman Group. Just in case.

"Hi, Ria," she said when she head Torres answer.

"_Foster_?"

Gillian caught both the surprise and the annoyance in Ria's voice. "Thought I'd say hi and see how you're doing. It's been a while."

_"Did Lightman ask you to check on me?"_

"No," Gillian paused, wondering why she bothered. She was talking to one of the most exceptional naturals she'd ever seen. "Yes."

Torres groaned. _"He doesn't trust me to handle this. For one day!"_

"He wouldn't have left you in charge if he didn't trust you. We both trust you. Just wanted to let you know I'm here if you need something."

There was a pause on the other end now. _"That was really rude wasn't it? I'm sorry, Foster. You're right. I do appreciate it." _Just as Torres could spot a lie with one look, Gillian could hear the truth in her voice as well. Knew that Ria meant it. _"How are you doing? Any chance of you coming back? Please? It's been so crazy since you left...all the extra work." _

Gillian didn't understand. "Hasn't Cal hired someone yet?"

_"I've seen him interview a bunch of people. Thing is...they all have the same problem." _

"What's that?"

_"They're not you." _

Gillian swallowed, not sure what to say. Wondered whether it was childish to feel some pleasure in knowing that Cal wanted no one else by his side but her when it came to running the Group.

Even so he was being silly. This wasn't fair to Torres, or Loker, or anyone else still left at the firm. She thought of Alex Almeida, who'd give a right arm to work at the Lightman Group. He had the experience, never mind the kind of non-combative, gentle demeanour that would be a perfect antidote to Lightman's bullheadedness. He even had a genuine interest in Lightman's science. So what if his skills needed a little work?

"I'll talk to him when he gets back," she told Ria. "There's someone I have in mind. Someone who'd be a great fit."

_"Or you could come back." _

Gillian could hear the smile in Torres' voice. She wasn't saying it to flatter her. She meant that too.

"I signed a year-long contract with the CDF."

_"Break it." _

Sometimes it was easy to see why Torres and Lightman got along. Why they respected and liked each other in spite of all the head-butting they did. They were so alike in so many ways.

"I'll help him find someone, okay?"

There was another pause. _"Okay." _Disappointment.

Gillian was nearing the jail. "Have to go. They're going to take my phone to go through security. But after that don't hesitate to call if you need anything."

_"I won't. Thanks." _

* * *

><p><em>Berkeley, UC Campus, San Francisco <em>

He approached her from behind in the busy student cafe. She had a pair of headphones in her ears, oblivious to everything but her music and the textbook that was spread open in front of her, next to the Macbook that Cal had bought her as a graduation gift.

"D'you mind if I join you?"

Emily turned around and her jaw dropped.

Cal grinned. Genuine shock and surprise were one of his favourite emotions on the human face. Because it lasted so briefly and because too many people feigned it.

"Oh my god..._Dad_?"

"One and only."

His daughter jumped up and threw her arms around him in a fierce hug, instantly justifying his whirlwind trip.

"What are you doing here? Why didn't you tell me you were in town?"

"It's not a surprise then, is it?" he asked as she slowly extricated herself from him.

She looked at him in disbelief. "How'd you find me here?"

"Dana, your flat mate, who, by the way, is a girl, told me this is where you come to study."

"What do you mean she is a girl...?" Emily set down her headphones. "Of course she's a girl."

Truth was he couldn't care less about that. Of course he knew her flat mate was a girl. He wanted to see his daughter because it was almost Thanksgiving and he knew that she wasn't coming home to see him. Was ready to do whatever it took to spend half a day with her because he missed her beautiful, smiling face more than he'd ever admit to anyone. Even though he had way too much on his plate to leave the Group for more than a day.

"Are you here for work?"

"No, I'm here to see you. Heading back to DC this afternoon."

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, right. As if you'd come here for one day just to see me."

It _was_ ludicrous. So he didn't even try to defend himself. Even if it was the truth.

"So can I buy you breakfast, or lunch?" He checked the time on his watch. What the hell time was it anyway? "Dinner?"

Emily closed her textbook. "I have an exam tomorrow. I should be studying. But a fancy lunch sounds amazing."

"Who said anything about fancy?"

"Come on, Dad. Students are always undernourished."

"Aright. Fancy meal. Then, I'll help you study," he offered. "Grill you on...whatever it is they grill budding engineers on."

Emily laughed. "There go my grades."

Cal hooked his arm into hers as they made their way out of the cafe, feeling ridiculously happy. "Are you telling me there are no micro-expressions in engineering?"

* * *

><p><em>DC Central Detention Facility<em>

Gillian was in his office for a change. She'd beaten him to the punch this morning and met him there before he got a chance to barge into hers.

Dr. Douglas Penn handed her two folders without so much as a good morning. "I'll take two. You take two. The rest can wait 'til tomorrow when Dr. Almeida gets back. They're not urgent."

"Alright," Gillian nodded. Two extra patients was less than she expected. It would mean a longer day, but if she cut short her lunch she'd probably still be out before six o'clock. Could still head over to George Washington U where she offered to do some guest lectures. Some tutoring. In exchange for access to their research labs. That was the one thing she missed since leaving the Pentagon. The chance and the time to do research.

Gillian was almost out the door when she noticed the name inside one of the folders.

_Hunter Kline. _

"Wait a minute," she told him. "I thought Alex told you that I'm not taking this patient?"

Douglas raised his brows. "Dr. Almeida doesn't tell me what to do."

Gillian cringed. It was a simple slip. But she of all people should've known the verbiage would touch a nerve with the man who thought that everything she did was an assault on his authority.

"I thought he'd _asked_ to take my name off this patient," she corrected herself.

"He did."

Gillian sensed what she was in for. She didn't want to fight this battle. Hated him because she knew that he was going to make her. Gillian held up her folder. "And?"

"Why?" he questioned. "Why don't you want to take this patient?"

"Because I have a history with this patient. I've done a prior assessment of him, outside the facility. One that might...have left me with certain biases against him." It was such a lousy excuse she wanted to take it back the second she said it.

"You're telling me you're incapable of seeing a past client? Incapable of unbiased professionalism?"

Gillian felt her cheeks burn. "No. That's not what I meant."

"Then what's the problem?"

"He terrifies me," she admitted. "I feel threatened by him and I have the right to refuse a patient when that's the case." She knew she was right. They could refuse a patient anytime they had a legitimate reason to fear for their personal safety.

Her boss was suddenly interested. "He threatened you? How?"

Gillian swallowed. Of course the things she'd seen on Hunter Kline's face or heard in his voice that night at the police station couldn't translate into written proof. She could just say that he did threaten her. Verbally or physically. But she wouldn't put it past Douglas Penn to request a transcript of that assessment.

"How did he threaten you, Dr. Foster?" he asked again.

"What does it matter?" Gillian shot back. "I'm telling you he did and that I don't want to deal with him again. It's unfair to both of us. Myself and the patient."

Dr. Penn leaned back in his chair and pressed the palms of his hands together, as if in prayer. "Ah...I see. You felt threatened by the way he squinted his eyes or changed the pitch in his voice."

"It's a proven science..." she cut in. Of all the things he did in an attempt to rile her, ridiculing Lightman's science was his favourite.

"In other words he threatened you with nothing tangible. No words. No actions."

It occurred to her then that she wasn't going to win this battle. At least not without having to fight an even bigger one afterwards. Even so, the thought of being in a room with Hunter Kline again made her feel sick. Made her willing to try anything.

"Please," she said softly, waving the white flag. Letting him know he held the upper hand. "I'll take your other two cases. I'll do all three of them. Just not this one. Please."

She knew that Douglas Penn was married. Knew that he had an adult son. Figured some one who was both a husband and father had to have_ some_ empathy. That his bitterness over her getting hired without his consent couldn't possibly overshadow everything, _all the time_.

Dr Penn sighed. "Dr. Foster...I can appreciate your concern. Really I can. But you do realize that you're working in a correctional facility, yes? That if we turned down every patient who made us feel uncomfortable, we wouldn't have a job."

Gillian bit her lip. The condescension was just the salt in the wound that she needed. "Have I turned down a single patient yet, Dr. Penn? _A single one_?"

He narrowed his brows, as if he needed to think about it.

Gillian wanted to wipe the phony expression off his face.

"I don't recall. No."

It took every ounce of her self-control to keep her voice level and calm. "But I'm asking you this time. Asking you to trust my professional judgment, when I tell you that I feel threatened by this man."

He sighed a second time. "I would never condone putting one of my staff members in a potentially dangerous situation. Never, Dr. Foster." He scoffed at the notion. "But this man, this Hunter Kline is in here for aggravated assault. He has no prior convictions. No history of mental illness. He's not a rapist. Not a murderer. And you yourself are admitting that you have no documented proof of any threats against you. As a professional..." he emphasized the word. "Surely you can understand why I'm hesitant to indulge you in your... fears and intuitions. Doing so would set a very unfortunate precedent."

"I see..." She didn't trust herself to say anything else.

"I expect you to assess Mr. Kline and if there are any documentable issues that arise during your assessment I'll be the first to address your concerns."

Gillian turned her back and left his office without a word, clenching the patient folders tightly in her hand.

* * *

><p><em>San Francisco, CA<em>

Emily Lightman still couldn't quite believe that her father was here. Having lunch with her after showing up out of the blue. And not only that; he'd agreed to go to the one restaurant she'd been dying to try out. He'd even waited in line with her patiently for almost half an hour before they got a table.

And now that she saw the sushi rolls that the waitress placed in front of her, Emily wanted to squeal with delight. They were little works art. Each and every roll was a feast for the eyes. Like the one directly in front of her, the one that had four tiny cubes of different fish nestling in the rice in perfect alignment, held in place by paper thin strips of seaweed, lined with multi-coloured sesame seeds.

This was fast turning into a seriously amazing day.

"Isn't this the most gorgeous thing you've ever seen?" she asked her father.

He made a sceptical face. "It's raw fish, Em."

Emily took out her Smartphone not daring to take a bite until she captured the entire dish in its full glory. Hesitant to disturb it even afterwards.

"Have you ever seen purple sesame seeds?"

"It's called food colouring."

Emily made a face. Sometimes truths and facts could be such spoilsports.

Not that she cared. She was about to have the most fabulous lunch since she got here. With her father!

He smiled as he watched her carefully separate the sushi rolls. "You really like this stuff, yeah?"

"Love it," she reiterated. "You have no idea how long I've been dreaming about coming here." She looked up him. "I didn't think you were really going to do it when I said I wanted a fancy lunch."

"It's almost Thanksgiving," he pointed out, while attacking his beef noodle dish. "If I can't have you home with me, at least let me take you out somewhere nice."

She felt a twinge of guilt at the thought. Emily had spent the last couple of Thanksgivings with him but this time her mother had insisted it was her turn. It wasn't that she didn't want to see her mother or spend time with her, it was the part about getting to know her new husband and his teenage son better that wasn't quite as appealing. But Zoe had already sent her the plane ticket to Chicago. Backing out now wasn't an option. Even if she really would have preferred to be back in her old home in DC. To just hang out with her Dad and some of her old friends. Maybe even see Gillian.

"I'll be home for Christmas," she reminded him.

"I know, luv. But you know patience isn't my strong suit."

Emily grinned. "If that gets me surprise visits and fancy lunches I'm cool with that."

"Tell me about your classes," he asked her.

So she did. Told him about the ones she loved. The ones she hated but forced herself to attend anyway. About the Russian octogenarian who was teaching one of her math classes who'd lose his train of thought one minute then amaze them by memorising impossibly long equations the next. And about the mild earthquake they had a couple of weeks ago that made her all sorts of uneasy.

"They get them here all the time," Emily told him. "Nobody even bats an eye. It's scary weird, Dad."

She told him about Tyler too. The pre-med student she'd met at a football game and had gone on a couple of dates with. He'd listened to pretty much everything she'd rambled on about with more attention than she remembered getting back home. And when she mentioned Tyler he was even more attentive.

"So you're seeing this guy?" he asked.

"Nah..." she admitted. "Not really. He's so into studying the only time we meet up is when the Bears play. We go for nachos after, and it's nice...but that's about it."

She could tell that he was reading her, fishing for the truth, smiling when he realized she'd already given it to him.

"Boys are trouble," he added. "Especially college boys."

Emily finished the rest of her sushi. "Not this one. Trust me. It's like Liam all over again. Except Tyler does believe in sex before marriage." She added that last bit just to get a rise out of him. Truth was they hadn't even broached the topic of sex during their last two nacho dates.

Of course her father obliged her. Giving her a look that let her know he hated Tyler already.

It made her laugh. "What about your love life? Are you and Gillian finally talking again?"

He stopped wolfing down the last of his noodles and wiped his mouth with the cotton serviette. "We're at the point where she answers my calls every now and then."

Emily frowned. She'd hoped it would be better than that. Wondered why Gillian who had probably preached forgiveness to a boatload of clients was so incapable of it herself.

He must've read the disappointment on her face.

"S'okay, luv," he told her. "I hurt her. A lot. It's gonna take time."

"It's already been ages!" she reminded him. "You made a mistake. You're human. How long are you supposed to pay for it?"

He grinned. "It's been a few months, Em. Wait'll you get my age. Few months is nothing." He got up then and put his serviette down on the table. "By the way, speaking of Foster, she asked me to give you something."

"What?"

"Get up."

"What does she want to give me?" Emily didn't get it. But stood up anyway and when she did he wrapped his arms around her in a massive hug.

"This."

Emily buried her face in his chest with a grin. She missed having him around. Her crazy, brilliant, fabulous dad.

* * *

><p><em>Later<em>

Gillian screwed open the little white bottle and poured two tablets into the palm of her hand, swallowing them with the water she'd poured into her old Pentagon mug an hour ago. It took nearly the whole day, but she finally gave up on the notion that her steadily worsening headache might go away on its own.

It probably didn't help that she hadn't eaten a thing since breakfast. But her stomach was in knots. She couldn't imagine consuming anything that came from the vending machine in the cafeteria.

Gillian stared at the folder lying on her desk. At the name printed on an adhesive label on the outside. Hunter Kline was her last patient of the day.

_Just get it over with. _

She picked it up with shaking hands, then set it back down. Angry at her herself.

_Why am I letting him get to me like this? After all the rapists and murderers I've dealt with since coming here, what is it about this guy that's so bad it's making my physically ill? _

She thought back to the interrogation at the police station. He'd made her uncomfortable then too, because of the things she could see in his face and hear in his voice. The sheer hatred he'd directed at her only because she had the audacity to assess his mental state. It was clear that no one else had ever dared.

But she'd kept her fear in check that day.

_Because I knew you were standing in the room next door watching it all. Because I knew you could see all the things that I could see. _

_Knew that even though you were angry with me, you'd be in that room faster than any cop, the second Kline tried to pull anything._

_Knowing you were there made all the difference in the world. _

There would be an armed guard in the room with her this afternoon too. But she'd trade him in for Cal Lightman in a heartbeat if she could.

_I always knew you'd have my back, but I didn't know until today how much strength I take from you._

Cal Lightman wasn't scared of much. It was easy to feel a little fearless when you were around him.

The message light lit up on her phone and for a minute her heart skipped a beat, thinking it was Cal.

It wasn't.

It was Alex Almeida.

-Voice is getting better. should be back tomorrow. Maurice is making cornish hen for dinner. told him to make an extra one for u. hope dog is behaving.

Gillian smirked. He told her he was on a mission to make Maurice cook for the whole city. That it would make DC an infinitely happier place. Instead of replying to him she checked the time on her cell phone. She was already late to see Kline and even now she thought of ways to get out of it.

_I could see the Facility Director. He actually believes Lightman's science. And when he interviewed me he seemed like someone who might have a functioning heart._

"Except if I go over Doug's head to get out of this, he'll make my life here even more difficult."

_Then again, what else could he possibly do that would make our working relationship more hostile?_

Her head was really pounding now, making her regret that she waited nearly the entire day before taking something for it.

Gillian closed her eyes.

_Five minutes. I'm already late anyway. _

When she opened them again she grabbed the folder, got up and took a deep breath.

_He's just a man with a psychological disorder. Don't give him this kind of power. _

She reminded herself that she'd counselled patients with deviances far more disturbing than those of Hunter Kline. That life had thrown far greater challenges at her than one psycho and she'd never backed away from any of those either.

In the large scheme of things, Hunter Kline was just a blip on the radar screen.

* * *

><p><em>Later<em>

Gillian had to fight back the urge to gasp in shock when she saw him.

Hunter Kline's current face bore little resemblance to the one she remembered last seeing.

The current version was a large, ugly, swollen mess. Bloodied and bloated to nearly twice the size it had been a few weeks ago.

His lips were so swollen he could barely open and close them and one of his eyes was closed shut altogether, covered by a massive bandage that didn't quite conceal the purplish bruising growing around its edges.

The old Hunter Kline was an exceptionally attractive man. The new Hunter Kline would have to wait some time before he looked human again.

"Is this a fucking joke?" was the first thing he said.

He had a hard time spitting out the words and she had a hard time understanding them.

"They send the fucking Lightman Group in here for this?"

Gillian calmly sat down across from him, grateful that he couldn't read her the way Lightman could have. "I'm not here on behalf of the Lightman Group. I work here."

"Want another shrink. Not you. There's gotta be more than one. Don't think I don't know my fucking rights, bitch. I'm a lawyer remember?"

_You and me both. Trust me. We both want you to have another counsellor. _

"All I'm here to do is assess whether or not you're comfortable with the notion of solitary confinement. It can take ten minutes. Or I can leave and ask for you to get different consultation tomorrow. But until that happens it's possible you'll be moved from the infirmary back into your regular cell. It's up to you Mr. Kline. I'm fine with either one."

She could see his mind working. Could see him making an effort to reign in his rage.

Hunter Kline leaned forward and Gillian saw the guard move towards them too. On alert in spite of the handcuffs and shackles that he wore.

The action forced her to look at a close-up of his mutilated face. To see the sheer force of the hatred in his one eye.

It gave her goose bumps and it amplified the pounding in her head.

"You do realize that if it wasn't for you and Cal Lightman, I wouldn't be here, don't you? That this...it's ruined my career. My life. My _face._ All because of some malicious lies that you..._"_

Gillian cut him off. "Last time I checked you were in here for assaulting Dr. Lightman. Not for any other reason." Then she looked him square in the eye. "Mr. Kline, I'm not hear to listen to baseless accusations. I'm here to ask you some questions and to assess your mental state. Are you able to do that? If not I'm going to leave."

He didn't retreat. He still leaned over the table and she could almost hear the wheels turning in his mind as his one good eye stared her down. Could feel his breath against her face.

Their silent face-off seemed to last an eternity and for a moment Gillian felt dizzy. Had to press the nails of her fingers into the palm of her hand to fight back the nausea.

"That's alright..." he finally muttered. "You stay Dr. Foster and you tell whoever you have to tell that I welcome the chance to stay in solitary confinement. Just as I would welcome, no..." He paused as he searched for the right word. "Not welcome, _relish_ the chance to see you again once I leave this prison."

"Is that a threat, Mr. Kline?"

_We both know it is. _

"Of course not." Mustering a grotesque smile, he twisted his swollen lips into an upward curve. Gone was the angry obscenity-spewing man who sat across from her a minute ago, replaced by the cunning lawyer who managed to get away with god knows what for god knows how long. It was the same 180-degree turn she'd seen him take at the police station. The real Hunter Kline replaced by the one the world got to see. "Please excuse my earlier language...I harbour no resentment against you. Working here must take a certain fearlessness and that is something I admire. Even if sometimes this fearlessness..."

Again he let the words hang in the air, for maximum impact.

He was a marvellous actor.

"Can get you killed."

Gillian felt an ice-cold chill run down her spine. Hatred _and _intent.

_You're threatening to kill me and you're getting away with it. In room with an armed guard and a rolling camera. _

"Is that a threat, Mr. Kline?" she repeated. Her voice sounded far-away to her ears.

He shook his bruised head. "No, no, no...not at all. It's...concern. That's what it is. Concern for a beautiful woman who should probably work in a nicer place."

_Why am I bothering? You're way to smart to slip up. _

Gillian opened her folder and concentrated on the sheets of paper in front of her. No matter how she felt, she wouldn't let him see it. He wasn't the only one capable of acting.

It didn't take long. She went through the set of fifteen questions and left the room without so much as another look at him.

Her pace quickened after she left the infirmary and she barely made it to the nearest ladies room in time to throw up.

Then she put the toilet seat cover back down and sat on it for several long minutes before going back outside and splashing a handful of cold water on her face, not caring what it did to her make-up. Gillian let the ice-cold water run over her hands and then pressed them against the back of her neck, feeling her body cool down.

It was over.

_Get a grip. Just because he wants to kill you doesn't mean he will. He's a coward who likes little boys. Not a killer. _

She cupped her hands together and drank some of the cold water, grateful that her nausea was gone and that the pounding in her head was finally subsiding.

"It's over..." she repeated to herself, looking at the pale, relieved face that starred back at her from the bathroom mirror. "Over."

Gillian took her time walking back to her office. There was no one else to see today. Part of her wanted to go home and curl under the covers with a mindless romance novel. One that would help erase the bulk of this day from her memory. Much as she loved to lose herself in research, her mind didn't have the focus for it tonight.

Right now she was yearning for something altogether different.

She wanted him tonight. Badly.

For the first time in a long time she didn't care that she was in love with him. Or that he wasn't in love with her.

She just wanted her best friend's company. To feel the contentment she felt when he was near her. Nothing more, nothing less.

Gillian picked up her phone and dialled his number, disappointed that he didn't pick up. Until she realized that he was probably in the air, en route back to DC. Realized that Wallowski would probably be there to pick him up when he got here.

Gillian didn't care. She started typing him a text message anyway.

-Not sure when your flight is getting in tonight but if you want a ride from the airport let me know. I'd love to take you up on your offer for a drink.


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: **I've been trying to alternate weekly postings between my two fics in progress, but since these scenes in Shattered take place in quick succession I thought I'd try to have some continuity and, barring any festive chaos, I'm planning to follow up with chapter 22 of this story next week. (But I haven't shelved Journey! Promise!) Huge thanks again to those still reading and taking the time to leave me their thoughts!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 21 <strong>

_Reagan National Airport, DC _

Cal Lightman didn't see her text until after he walked past the baggage claims area, outside into the main hallway and about to head outside into a taxi.

He read it twice, wanting to make sure his tired eyes weren't playing tricks on him.

Foster was offering him a ride from the airport. Even crazier, she wanted to take him up on his offer to grab a drink together.

For a second his disbelief morphed into concern and Cal he wondered whether something was wrong. She'd sent the text over three hours ago, while he was still in the air.

Cal dialled her number as soon he stepped outside of the terminal, from a corner where the traffic noise was minimal.

She picked up after two rings.

_"Cal?" _

"Just landed and saw your text," he told her. "Sorry I didn't get back to you sooner."

_"It's okay." _

"If the offer's still on I'll take it." He tried to make it sound casual, knowing it was as pointless as her trying to lie to his face. If anyone could tell how badly he wanted this, just from the tone of his voice, it was Foster.

_"You sure you're not too tired after your flight? It's already past nine..." _

"Nah...slept on the plane," he lied.

There was a pause and he wondered if she regretted sending him the text. That was the downside to instant communication. Once you hit the send button you couldn't tear it back up, like the pages of a letter.

_"Give me ten minutes to get ready, then I'll drive down to pick you up. Tell me you're at Reagan, yeah?" _

Cal smirked. Given where she lived, Dulles would've been a much longer wait. "You're in luck."

_"I'll call you when I get closer. You can let me know exactly where you are." _

"See you soon."

He was grinning when he ended the call and set down his duffel bag on the concrete. Truth was he was exhausted. Doing this whirlwind cross-country trip after working for weeks with barely a day off meant that his bed was the only thing he'd craved desperately an hour ago.

But now that seeing her was an option, he realized there were other things he wanted just as much. Besides, after months of trying to get her back into his life, Cal knew he'd have to be on his deathbed before he turned down the olive branch she was offering him now.

It was the first time since that night that she was reaching out to him of her own volition and he'd be damned if he was going to screw this up. Not this time.

Cal picked up his duffel bag again and went back inside to wait for her.

* * *

><p><em>Georgetown, DC <em>

Cal convinced her to go somewhere in her neighbourhood.

_"That way you can park the car at home, have a drink, not worry about driving me home." _

_"What about you? I can have one drink and still drive you home, Cal." _

_"I'll take a taxi." _

He'd won out. So here they were sitting in the lounge area of a restaurant near Georgetown. A restaurant that was slowly clearing out due to the late hour.

A waiter came over with a wine list and Cal deferred it to Foster. He didn't know the first thing about wines. Never cared to. They started talking about the beauty of a full-bodied Bordeaux and they could've been speaking in Greek for all Cal understood. Besides, he was too busy watching them.

The waiter was flirting with her and Gillian played along. It amused him at first but as it went on the audacity of it all got on his nerves.

_There goes your tip, buddy. _

"The 2001 is really something special..." he rambled on.

"We'll take it," Cal cut him off.

"The Tour Figeac?" the waiter asked, turning his attention to Cal for the first time.

"Yeah, that one."

"Cal..." Gillian tried to cut in but the waiter already folded the list, flashing one last smile at Gillian before he finally left.

Gillian looked at him. "That was a $275 bottle of wine you just ordered. Thought you might like to know."

Cal suppressed an inward groan. How could old French grape juice possibly cost that much?

But he quickly shrugged it off. "Worth it to get rid of the guy."

"There was a perfectly fine California Merlot I was eyeing that would've cost you fifty bucks, if you'd just given me another two minutes."

_You can have all the time you want tonight. You. Not the guy trying to get your number in front of my nose. _

He pushed himself forward in his fancy chair. "First time I've gone for a drink with my best friend in months. Calls for a decent bottle of wine, don't you think?"

"Sure," she said softly and he caught a hint of guilt in her eyes, making him want to kick himself. Trying to make her feel bad wasn't what he wanted. Was he ever going to stop messing up where Foster was concerned?

"Just trying say this is nice...you and I having a drink together. Missed it."

Gillian didn't say anything but she nodded. Acknowledging that she missed it just as much.

"Want to get some food?" It was late. But he was hungry. A pocket-sized bag of airline pretzels didn't qualify for a meal. Even if that's what United wanted you to believe.

"Why not?" she replied. Foster never needed much arm twisting where food was concerned. "I'll pick something. Before you accidentally order the caviar."

Cal watched her flag down the waiter and order three appetizers. Thank god the plonker didn't linger this time.

Gillian leaned in towards him from across the table, after he left. "You sure you're up for this. You look...tired."

He was tired. Beyond tired really. But Cal didn't care.

"You look great," he countered. It was the truth. She looked good. Really good. Healthy. Happy. She wore a dark pink blouse underneath a thin black jacket. It had a plunging v-neckline and a long, silver necklace with a vertical pendant nestling at its base. It was hard not to stare at precisely that spot.

She blushed a little. "Had a nap after work today. It was nice. I'm still getting used to working nine to five." She flashed him a gorgeous smile. "Sometimes it feels almost like a part-time job."

That was something else he noticed too. Gone were the circles under her eyes, the ones that had been a permanent fixture during her last few months at the Group.

It was a bitter pill to swallow. The notion that maybe getting away from him and the Group was the best thing Gillian Foster ever did for herself.

The waiter brought the wine and went back to ignoring Cal. He let Foster try it and Cal watched her swirl it around the glass before drinking some.

Judging from the delighted expression on her face Cal assumed it was good. Only then did the waiter pour him a glass too. One that Cal raised in a toast with hers after he left.

"Wow..." she exclaimed. "This really is special."

_Yeah. It is. _

Cal smiled as his eyes met hers. Sometimes he forgot how content he felt in his own skin when she was around him.

"How's Emily?" she asked.

"Good, good..." He told her about the suffocating hug he'd given her in Gillian's name. And the trendy Japanese restaurant she'd chosen to have lunch at. Followed by the obligatory bragging about her academic brilliance. "Right now she's got a perfect mark in one of her classes. Mind you, it's after one test, but still. That's bloody genial isn't it?"

Gillian agreed, wholeheartedly. "Definitely. Genius."

He barely noticed the waiter put their food on the table.

"Can I ask you something?" he probed.

She helped herself to something on one of the plates. Cal wasn't sure what it was. It looked like a mini-tart, covered in cheese. "Sure."

"Does this...you and me having a drink together tonight, does this mean we're okay again?"

Two striking blue eyes met his, letting him sink right into them before she answered him. "I'd like us to be okay again."

_Me too. You have no idea._

"So we're here because we're okay?"

She smiled. "Truth?"

Cal shrugged and returned her smile. "Might as well."

"I had a crap day at work and wanted your company."

"You're using me?"

"A little bit."

Cal chuckled. "It's okay. I forgive you." He poured her some more wine. "Tell me what happened."

"Not much to tell," she said, reaching for another appetizer.

Cal couldn't help reading her. _That's a lie._

"I have a boss I'd like to murder."

"Ah yeah? I have connections if you wanna go through with it."

She laughed. "Good to know."

"Or you could just ditch him and come back to the Group and work for me."

"For you?"

He wanted to kick himself for the second time tonight. "_With _me."

Her face was unreadable again. Funny, how she had the ability to do that. Shut him out at will.

"You _know_ I meant with me, Gill." he wanted her to know it. To believe it.

She nodded. "I know."

"No matter what kind of a wanker I am on any given day, the Group's always been half yours. Always will be for as long as you want it to be."

"Cal..." she raised her brow, her eyes letting him know she knew it. That she could tell from the way he said it. And that she was neither angry nor offended. "I know. Really."

"Good."

"I signed a one-year contract with the CDF. I intend to honour it."

"And after that?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know yet."

"Let me know. I can always kick Torres out of your office again."

"It's warm in here," she pointed out.

Gillian took off her jacket revealing the pretty short-sleeved blouse she wore underneath. It would've been so easy to focus on that or its plunging neckline, if he wasn't so distracted by the scar that ran along the inside of her arm, cutting through her pale skin.

"Speaking of work, you'll be happy to know I haven't heard from Torres all day."

"Is that right?" Truth was, for the first time in a long time, he hadn't given the company any thought in the last 24 hours. Hadn't even bothered to check in on Torres and Loker.

"I did call her this morning, to let her know I was here if she needed anything..."

Cal reached across their table for something that looked like a meat spread on a small piece of toast. He took half a bite and set it back down. It was good but he'd suddenly lost his appetite.

"Ria also mentioned that you haven't hired anyone to replace me yet."

"She did, did she? Little snitch."

"She can't do the work of two people indefinitely, Cal."

"I know," he admitted. "But it's not easy finding someone smart, capable, qualified and willing to give up their life for a low paying job while putting up with me."

Gillian winced. "Tell me that's not what your ad says."

"See, this is why I need a language expert around."

"Cal?"

He smirked. "Truth is, Torres' been doing a fantastic job. Just don't tell her that."

"Maybe you should tell her," Gillian told him. "Ria doesn't need a pat on the back to do her job. But she's human. Every now and then she needs to know her efforts mean something."

Cal drank some of his wine. She had a point. Especially now that Foster wasn't around to do that patting on the back at the office. Who else was it going to come from? Still, he'd draw the line at Loker.

"I have someone in mind for my old job," she added.

"Ah yeah?"

"One of my colleagues at the CDF. He'd love the chance and I think he'd be great."

"Alright," Cal pursed his lips. He didn't like talking about replacing her at Group. Not with her of all people. But he stopped short of showing it. "Tell him to give me a call." He drank some more wine. "And tell me what else is happening in your life."

Cal made another attempt at eating something, choking it down as his gaze kept drifting to her arm. The scar might as well have flashed at him like neon lights, that's how distracting it was. Foster, on the other hand, was oblivious to it.

_If you're wearing short sleeves in the summer, it'll be the first thing they notice. Not your gorgeous legs, or those stunning blue eyes. No, they're gonna see that instead._

_They're gonna see the mark that I left on you. _

"Did I tell you I'm getting a dog?"

The knot kept tightening in his gut. He shouldn't have forced down that spring roll.

"A dog?"

"Yeah. I filled out the paperwork at the shelter yesterday. I should be able to pick him up before the end of the week. He's not much to look at...okay, that's an understatement." She giggled. "He's pretty ugly. But when I met him at the shelter, I just knew, Cal...he's the sweetest thing in the world. I fell in love on the spot."

"Dogs are a lot work. You gotta walk them in middle of a snow storm."

"You mean I can't call you?"

He managed a smile. Gillian was genuinely enjoying his company tonight, along with the buzz of their expensive wine. He didn't need to read micro-expressions to see that. It should've made him happy because he'd wanted this for so long. Wanted her back in his life. Wanted her to be happy to be there.

But every time he looked at that line on her arm, his mind went back to that night in his office. To the blood that he couldn't stop. To the memory of her face getting paler as it spilled onto their clothes, dripping on his furniture and down to the floor. The bloody prints on his phone when he called for help.

"You don't like the appetizers I ordered?" she asked him, noticing the change in his mood now. That he'd barely touched the food. "We can get something else."

_I want you to get rid of it. Or at least put your jacket back on. I can't stand looking at it. _

_It's so goddamn selfish but it's the truth. _

"Cal?"

"Nah...it's...they're fine. Just...tired."

"Let's call it a night then," she offered. This time she did a lousy job of shutting him out. He read the disappointment on her face with ease. For a second he thought he saw jealously too, but that made no sense. God, he really was tired.

"No..." A month ago he'd have given an arm and a leg to spend an evening with her again and now he was going to cut it short because...

"I'll see if I can catch the waiter," she told him, cutting into his thoughts.

"No...let's not leave yet."

Concern was what he saw on her face now. "Are you okay, Cal?"

"Does it hurt?"

_Why am I ruining this evening by dragging us both back to that night?_

_Because it's staring me in the face. _

"What?"

He directed his gaze to her arm. "Your scar."

She didn't really want to answer him. "No."

_Liar. _

Gillian knew he was reading her. Knew he wanted to make sure she was telling the truth. She didn't care for that either but decided to humour him.

"Sometimes," she admitted. "If it's damp and cold out, I'll feel it. But it doesn't keep me up at night."

Cal frowned. It was ironic, he'd asked for the truth, but he couldn't stand to hear it. Just like he couldn't stand to look at it.

He wasn't terribly familiar with the notion of regret. Used to think it was a pointless emotion. But now it was threatening to fill him with the kind of self-loathing he wasn't used to either.

_Why did it have to be you? Of all people to be scarred by something that I did in anger, why you, Gill? _

A crashing noise from the bar suddenly jolted him from his thoughts. From the corner of his eye he caught the waiter who dropped a tray full of glasses, sending them toppling to the floor with an ear-shattering noise.

But it wasn't the accident that caught the bulk of his attention. It was Gillian's reaction. The way her hand moved to the scar on her arm, how her eyes widened in sheer terror and her breathing quickened. Her reaction lasted mere seconds but Cal caught it and it made him want to flee the room. He, who never ran away from anything.

Gillian's breathing was steadying again and she gave him a lop-sided smile, completely unaware of what he'd seen on her face. "Poor guy...hope it doesn't come out of his wages."

Cal pushed his chair back and got up and saw that the concern on her face deepened.

"You sure you're okay?"

He nodded. "Yeah...have to make a quick trip to the men's room."

_I spend months trying to get you back into my life and tonight I finally realize that leaving me was the best thing you ever did. _

He saw that she didn't believe him. Didn't believe that everything was okay.

He wanted to bend down and kiss her goodbye. Feel her skin against his lips one last time. Because in spite of what he was about to do, there was a primal part of him that still wanted her and would never stop wanting her.

_Used to be too selfish to let you go. But that's before I fell in love with you. Funny thing, love. Makes me want your happiness more than my own. _

It was a stupid cliché. But it was also the truth. He'd always known it in the back of his mind. That if anyone deserved better than this, _better than him_, it was Gillian Foster. One look at the ugly scar on her arm was ample proof.

It should never have taken him this long to realize it.

Maybe it's because he'd barely seen her since that night. The last time he'd seen her at the police station she'd worn long sleeves. And the time before that, at her house, he'd been too focused on her anger to see anything else with any sort of clarity.

As soon as he was out of Foster's view, Cal grabbed one of the waiters, handed him a credit card and told him he needed to settle the bill.

When the waiter came back, Cal signed the receipt and left the restaurant without looking back.


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: **This one is for those who wanted a little happiness. :)

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 22<strong>

"_Being with you never felt wrong. It's the one thing I did right. You're the one thing I did right."__– B Fitzpatrick_

_Georgetown, DC_

_Later _

"For what it's worth, the guy doesn't deserve you."

Gillian raised her eyes to the charming waiter who took the near empty plates and bottle from her table.

_How are you so sure? _she wondered. _I could be a serial killer for all you know._

She offered him a polite smile, not in the mood to flirt. "Thanks."

Gillian sighed. She probably shouldn't have had that last glass. But it was too good to let go to waste. And the buzz she'd felt as a result was likely the only thing stopping her irritation from boiling over into red, hot anger.

Only moments ago she'd started to worry when Cal hadn't come back from the men's room. She'd alerted a waiter, asking if he could check on him and the poor man had been part embarrassed, part apologetic, trying to figure out how to how to let her know that Cal was gone. That he'd left after paying the bill.

_At least you did pay the bill. _

It was a fitting end to a lousy day.

_What the hell got into you, Cal? You spend months trying to get me to come back to the Group, show up at my doorstep with chocolates even and then tonight you buy us a three hundred dollar bottle of wine and after all that...you pull this? _

Gillian leaned back in her chair. It wasn't just the alcohol that helped dull her anger, it was also the fact that none of this made any sense. Even though part of her was seething, another part of her was worried too. Worried that something was wrong. Really wrong.

She put her jacket on and left the table, grabbing the duffel bag that Cal left behind before stepping outside into the early winter chill. She could've walked home from here since she lived only a few blocks away. But home wasn't what she had in mind.

Gillian flagged down the first taxi she saw and stepped inside it, giving the driver the familiar address.

She was going there on a hunch.

Gillian wasn't sure whether she still knew him, but the Cal she used to know would've gone there too after what happened tonight.

_Maybe this is your way of getting back at me for leaving the Group. Or for whatever else I did to wound your pride...but if you really want to end it between us, you're not going to do it like this. _

_No matter how angry I was with you after what happened, I came to the office to say good-bye to you in person. I owed you that much and you owe me the same Cal. _

_If this is your way of letting me know I pissed you off beyond repair, then you're going to say it to my face. _

_After all, on paper, we're still running a business together. _

"Ma'am," the driver notified her, interrupting her thoughts. "We're here. This is the Lightman Group."

* * *

><p>Gillian Foster used her key card to open the front door, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness of the hallway instead of turning on the light. In spite of her absence from it, she still knew this building like the back of her hand. She could make her way around it blindfolded if she had to.<p>

After spotting a dim light coming from his office at the far end of the hallway, Gillian raised her lips into a pleased smile. She'd been right to guess that he'd come here. Not go to his home in the suburbs.

Or to Wallowski's place.

Gillian walked past her own old office and snuck a peak inside, quietly opening the door. Although the lights were off, the blinds were open, letting the moonlight illuminate the room.

She went inside and ran her hand along the edge of her old desk. It was messier now. Full of binders and folders, pens and coffee cups, a fish bowl with two little goldfish inside and a small crystal globe. Gillian marvelled at all the stuff that Ria had managed to cram onto the small space. There were pictures too and a couple of figurines with sayings in Spanish that she couldn't decipher.

It made her melancholy to see the changes.

She was glad that Torres had made the space her own and proud that she'd risen to the challenge of stepping into her shoes. But the knowledge that this room, where she'd spent so many hours and poured so much of her heart and soul into, no longer belonged to her made her sad too.

Gillian stepped back outside, exiting her old office as quietly as she'd entered it and she glanced down the hallway where she saw the faint light coming from Lightman's office.

Walking towards it, she wasn't surprised to find the door half open and Cal lying on the sofa inside.

At first she thought he was asleep but then she saw him open his eyes as soon as she entered the room. Genuine surprise was written all over his face.

"Foster?" He sat upright. "How the hell did you get in here?"

She held up her key card. "Through the front door. You're the one who reminded me tonight that I still own half the place."

"What are you doing here?"

Gillian folded her arms as she eyed him. "You left without saying good-bye. Thought it was rude and wanted to let you know." She dumped his duffel bag right on top of his feet, wishing it were heavier. "And you left this at the restaurant."

Cal groaned as he rubbed his eyes. Only his desk lamp was lit and it wasn't very bright, leaving the room shrouded in semi-darkness. Unlike the blinds in her old office, his were all closed. It struck her then just how tired he looked. The familiar lines in his face had deepened since she'd left the Group and it shouldn't have surprised her. They'd barely been able to keep the place afloat together, Gillian couldn't begin to imagine the effort it would take for one person. Especially after he made a deal with the devil by letting the police put him on a retainer for a year.

"Go home, Gill."

Gillian uncrossed her arms and sat down next to him on the sofa. "What the hell is going on with you?"

"Don't come here and start mothering and psycho-babbling. Don't need it, Foster."

"Why'd you leave like that?" she pressed, ignoring his outburst.

"For months you've been giving me the cold shoulder. Figured it was about time you got a taste of your own medicine."

Gillian saw a lot of things on his face in the dim light and not many of them made a lot of sense. "Except if you_ really_ wanted pay-back, you'd have left me holding the bill." She turned to him, forcing him to face her. "For such an accomplished liar, you're doing a lousy job right now."

Anger. That's what she read in his face now. Except she couldn't tell whether it was directed at her or himself.

"Just go away, Foster. I'm done with all this drama. Done with us."

The anger on his face was real and it confused her. She was so sure this was an act. That he didn't mean it. This wasn't Cal Lightman talking.

"Why are you doing this?"

His angry gaze was unwavering. "I don't owe you an explanation, Foster. Go home. Get that damn dog so you can finally mother someone."

Gillian swallowed. _That _hurt.

She felt the tears well up in her eyes against her will. Felt her own anger rise in response to them.

_I'm so tired of you making me cry. Of me letting you. _

"I see..." Gillian fought back her tears as she pushed herself off the sofa. She wouldn't let him see how much that one got to her. Even if she was still convinced it was all some stupid senseless act.

Gillian refused to look at him because she knew if she did the tears would fall.

"If that's really what you want, then you find a way to buy me out of the Group," was all she said as she straightened her skirt, still unable to look in his direction.

Gillian took a step away from him, her mind already focused on the door. On getting far away from here, when she felt him grab her wrist.

"Gill, stop..."

He tugged at her arm, with just enough force that she had no choice but to turn around and look him in the eye. Made it impossible to hold back the tears.

_You win. Again. _

Even though she was the one crying, his face was the one that was full of hurt.

"Can't go through with this..." he mumbled with a guilty look on his face. "Can't do this."

"Do _what_?" she asked angrily as she wiped away her tears with the back of her hand and yanked her wrist out of his grasp.

"Keep hurting you."

"Why not?" Gillian looked at him in angrily. "You're so damn good at it!"

He took a step towards her, into her space, one of his hands resting on her arm. "It's why I want you to get away from me...'cause you're right. I am. Too good at it." He moved his free hand to her cheek, tracing one of her tears with his thumb and wiping it away. "And it's so unfair to you."

Gillian exhaled, wiping away the last of her tears. Of course it was all an act. She'd known and fell for it anyway. _Bastard. _"Not going to disagree with that right now."

"My head tells me to let you go. But then I see you...standing next to me and I can't do it. Can't let you go."

"So tonight in the middle of drinks and appetizers, you suddenly decide I'm better off without you?" She reached for a tissue from his desk and blew her nose. "How noble."

He moved towards her again, took hold of her wrist one more time and, sliding the sleeve of her jacket up with his fingers until he exposed her scar. "No matter what I do, I can't undo this and that kills me."

"So... because you can't fix it, you decide it's easier to say the kind of cruel things that'll make me leave for good? So you don't have to face it? Really, Cal? Of all the things you are, I never thought coward was one of them."

_That _accusation hurt him. She didn't need to read micro-expressions to see that.

_Good. _

"It's not why."

"Then why?" she pressed, tired of this charade.

Cal Lightman then did something she'd never seen him do. Pause and weigh his words, eyeing her with hesitation before he finally answered.

"Because you mean _everything_ to me," he said, his voice low and full of a quiet sincerity that she wasn't used to. "Because I love you and want something better for you...better than this."

His word left her speechless.

"You know..." he smiled a lop-sided smile. "I kept accusing you of not telling me the truth, these last few months. Probably makes me a hypocrite 'cause I never found the guts to tell you the truth either."

A warmth flooded her cheeks. If he was aiming for the truth then she wanted the whole truth.

"What do you mean...when you say you love me?"

She hadn't noticed until now that his fingers were still wrapped around her wrist. That he'd inched even closer into her space. Close enough that it made her feel like she suddenly couldn't quite get in enough air.

His head cocked sideways, both arms around her now, Cal pulled her towards him, until her body was pressed against hers.

Cal hesitated, his tired, hazel eyes checking in with her, making sure it was alright, waiting until he got the unspoken okay from her, before his lips touched hers and he kissed her.

He was tentative at first, his lips exploring hers cautiously, before he ventured a little further and deeper, unable to hold back his desire.

She was too stunned to respond, until her body caught up with her brain and reminded her how much she'd wanted this. Closing her eyes, Gillian stopped thinking and let her senses take over.

He was kissing her like someone who'd waited a lifetime to do it.

Gillian pulled him closer still, her fingers entwined in his hair while her lips played along with his, tasting and exploring. She'd wanted this part of him for so long. To feel his body against hers exactly like this. Wanted him to want her.

And judging from the way he kissed her and held her, there was no denying anymore how much he wanted her.

She was out of breath by the time Cal finally pulled away, running his thumb along her swollen lips when he was done.

It took all her willpower to stop from yanking him back towards her again. Doing it all over again.

"That's what I mean when I say I love you," he told her, his breathing as heavy as hers. Pupils fully dilated as his lips widened into another smile. "Not just here..." He put his hand on his heart. "You've been in there for a long time now. But it's more than that. I'm mad about you. I want you. In every possible way."

For the second time in minutes he left her speechless. Light-headed too. She suddenly wanted to sit down.

"But the more I love you, the more the idea of us terrifies me." He was as serious as she'd ever seen him. "All I need to do is take one look at you, at that mark on your arm, and it reminds me that I've already screwed up beyond..."

Gillian placed an index finger on his lips. "Stop!"

"You should get away from me, Gill."

"I should have a say in this!" She shot back. "All this crazy talk about...cutting me out of your life because it's what best for me. I'm not twelve years old, Cal!"

"Is it crazy?" he asked, narrowing his brows. He was asking her an honest question. "You made that same decision yourself a few months ago. Made me it for a good reason."

"No..." Gillian shook her head. Maybe it was time to tell him the truth too. "I made it out of anger."

"You had a right to be pissed."

"I was that night," she admitted. "I was so angry and hurt...all of it. For months we fought about everything and then that thing falls from your bookcase while we're arguing and cuts through me..." Gillian exhaled, not wanting to go back to that night. Not now. When all she wanted was to feel his lips on hers again.

"Don't blame you, luv."

"I left because I was angry with you, but I stayed away because I was angry at myself."

Cal listened but didn't saying anything.

"I was angry, 'cause in spite of everything...I still wanted..." Even after he'd said it to her, she still wasn't sure she was ready to admit it to him. Stepping into his heart was one thing, but letting him into hers terrified her a little. Not that he wouldn't know exactly how she felt with one look at her face anyway.

"Still wanted what?" he prodded gently.

"Still wanted you to feel for me what I felt for you."

Cal was perplexed. "You thought I didn't?"

"I thought you were with Wallowski!" She was almost embarrassed to admit it now. How could they, who saw so much, be so blind to each other?

His eyes widened. "Wallowski?"

"You were seeing her."

"Well..." Cal acknowledged it with a nod. "Yeah, we dated. But we both knew it wouldn't last. She's a friend. I care about her. That's all."

"She was always with you and last time I called you late, she was at your place. I assumed..."

This time he was the one who put an index finger over her lips. "You're wrong. Couldn't be more wrong. But, you know, I get it...I'm seeing other women thinking I can't have you, and you think I don't want you 'cause I'm seeing other women. Madness, isn't it?" Cal's fingers suddenly entwined themselves with hers and he gave her a gentle nudge back towards the sofa where he sat down in the corner. "Come here."

He put his feet up on the coffee table as she toed out of her heels and snuggled into him.

It occurred to her then that the last time she was lying down on this sofa was that night. The night he frantically ripped his shirt off and wrapped it around her arm to try and stop the bleeding. The searing pain and anger she felt that night in equal parts, not sure which one was worse.

It made her shiver.

"You think about it too, don't you?"

"Sometimes." Gillian marvelled that he knew exactly what suddenly gave her goose bumps.

"You have no idea how much I wanna erase that night."

Gillian squeezed his hand. Raised it up to her lips and kissed it. "It was an accident, Cal."

"Nah...it wasn't."

Gillian sighed. She wasn't going to win this argument and she didn't want to have it. Not now.

"Wanna get out of this room?" he asked her, his lips so close to her ears she could feel them. It made her want to lean back her head and kiss him again.

"No." She nestled into him a little closer still, not wanting to be held hostage by a memory. "I'm comfortable. Being here with you, feels like coming home."

"Hasn't felt like home here since you left."

Gillian yawned, just as tired as he was now. This whole day was catching up to her.

"You really think you and me...we stand a chance?" he asked.

"Yeah. I do."

"Don't wanna hurt you anymore."

"Then don't."

"I dunno if..."

"Cal?"

"Yeah?"

"My ex-husband chose cocaine over our marriage and the last man I loved left me for his job and you think _you're _the one that's going to hurt me?"

Cal smirked before lowering his chin and planting another kiss on her forehead. "Mentioned I love you, yeah?"

Gillian leaned her head against his chest, feeling herself drifting off to sleep. "Yeah. You can say it again though. I like hearing it."

One of his arms draped lazily over her, claiming her, as he got a little more comfortable, neither of them planning to go anywhere. "Get used to hearing it."

* * *

><p><em>Morning <em>

Gillian didn't remember falling asleep but when she woke up she was alone in Cal's office and determined rays of sunlight were forcing their way through the cracks in the window blinds.

There was a sofa pillow under her head and a blanket covered her.

For a moment her heart skipped a beat and she wondered whether she'd dreamt what happened last night. Or if she didn't, whether the sobering lights of morning would have made Lightman regret everything he confessed to her. Would've made him flee again.

She pushed herself off the sofa and saw the note he left behind on the coffee table.

_-Have an early morning appointment with the police chief. You're still sound asleep. Don't have the heart to wake you. _

_Call you later. _

_Love, _

_C _

Gillian smiled. She was wrong. And she was fine with that.

Maybe what happened last night really was a beginning. A crazy, beautiful, improbable beginning.

_I hope it is. _

Gillian raised her eyes towards the clock on the wall, suddenly panicking for other reasons. If Cal had already left for a meeting with the police chief, exactly how late was it? After all, she had a job to get to too.

_7:32_

It didn't leave her with a lot of time to get home, shower and change. But enough.

Gillian got up, slipped back into her heels and tucked her blouse back into her skirt. She ran her fingers through her messy hair. It would have to do.

Then she folded up the blanket and put the sofa pillow back in its place before stashing Cal's note into her purse. She was erasing the evidence and hoping it was early enough to sneak out before any Lightman Group employees got here. Especially Torres and Loker.

She wasn't ready to be the subject of their water-cooler gossip just yet.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23 **

_One week later _

_Lightman Group, Washington DC_

"What are you doing?" Ria Torres asked Eli Loker who was using a remote to fast forward through a series of videos of what looked like a basketball game. The images were all a blurry mess to her.

"The college basketball case?" he quipped. "You know the ones that hired us last week 'cause they think some of their guys are taking drugs? Drugs that their test screens can't pick up?" He was chewing on a liquorice stick. "I had to pull up old footage from some of their past games but I have to fast forward through a lot of stuff before I get to the guys I want to look at."

"I see." She remembered now. Interviewing the players was on their agenda too, sometime in the near future. In fact, she was the one who was supposed to do that part.

He gave her a smug look. "You forgot about this case, didn't you?"

"No," she lied. Truth was she did. Had handed it over to Loker and shelved it for the time being. It was just one more reminder that she was too far in over her head these days. Sometimes she marvelled that she'd been able to pull it off for this long. One thing was certain, things had to change. When the thought of going back to screening luggage started to look appealing, Ria knew it was getting to her.

"You did forget about it, didn't you?"

Ria glared at him. Attitude from Loker was the last thing she needed this morning. "Do you wanna do my job?"

"I do actually," he confessed, reminding her of the guy who used to live by a concept he called Radical Honesty. "That is, if Lightman trusted me to do it."

Ria felt a twinge of sympathy for him. Eli Loker, who tried so hard time and lived and breathed this job. Eli Loker who'd give his right arm to be a natural, like she was.

She dug into his stash of liquorice and helped herself to one. Ria never quite understood Foster's obsession with sweets. But now she was turning into an addict herself. She loved the little bursts of pleasure she got when the sugar hit her tongue. The boost of energy afterwards, even if it didn't last. It was the little things these days.

"Speaking of Lightman," Ria pointed out, wanting to get away from the topic of forgetting cases and Loker's feelings of inadequacy. "Have you noticed anything different about him lately?"

"No. Have you?"

She'd piqued his interest now. Anything involving Lightman always did. "Yeah. Since he got back from seeing Emily last week."

"Different how?"

"He's..._happy_." No. It was more than that. If Ria really went with her gut instincts she'd say he was in love. That maybe the trip out west was a lie and a fabrication. That Lightman went to visit some girlfriend instead. Normally she could spot a lie from a mile away, but this was Lightman, one of the few people in the world capable of pulling the wool over her eyes. Plus, she'd been so frazzled at the thought of running the whole place she hadn't been looking for lies just then.

"Happy?"

"Yeah," Ria insisted. "Haven't you noticed? He's not stressed lately. He didn't even yell at me when he had reason to yesterday."

"It's Emily," he concluded. "She's the one person that makes him happy. Makes sense that he'd come back happy after seeing her."

Ria winced. _This_ was why Lightman wouldn't trust Loker to do Foster's job. Not because he had some imagined dislike for him. It was because Loker had lousy instincts. "I don't think it's Emily."

Nor did she think that Emily was the only person capable of making him happy either. Gillian Foster made him happy too. In fact, Ria was certain that it was more than that. Was certain that Lightman loved her. Everyone at the Group thought he did. Except for Foster herself, who was ridiculously oblivious to the way Lightman looked at her sometimes.

The romantic in her wanted it to happen. For her bosses to hook up. Because she still believed in happily ever-afters and because she was convinced that once they finally admitted the truth they'd be a perfect match. Foster, she brought out something good and kind in him, and Lightman, in spite of everything, he made her happy. It was so obvious to everyone. Everyone but the two of them.

It made her a little sad to think that Lightman might've found someone else. But Foster hadn't set foot in the office in months and if they hadn't been able to resolve what tore up their friendship by now it probably wouldn't ever happen. Ria didn't know whether either of them had even tried. Lightman didn't offer too many details about his personal life.

"I think it is Emily," Loker insisted.

Ria sighed. "Betcha ten bucks it's not."

"How would we know?"

"How about if he shows up with a girlfriend here anytime in the next few weeks I get ten bucks?"

Loker debated it. "Next _two _weeks."

"Fine." Ria held out her hand and they shook on it. "Deal."

"Whatever his reason, maybe now's a good time to remind him again to hire someone. Before he gets cranky again. Or before you have a nervous breakdown and forget about one of our more important cases."

Ria made a face. Maybe he didn't have the best instincts in the world but when he stuck to logic he usually made some good points. Like the one he was making right now.

She had to meet Lightman at the Mayor's office in thirty minutes. It _would_ be a good time to bring it up again.

* * *

><p><em>Central Detention Facility <em>

-hi Gillian!

Gillian Foster smiled when she saw Emily's name come up on her phone.

-wanted to let you know I got your hug last week. Dad gave it to me in the middle of a busy restaurant. i'll never be able to go there again. :)

Gillian laughed.

-Sorry. Next time I'll be more specific when it comes to the where and when

-can you do me a favour in return?

-Sure, what is it?

-give him a hug from me.

Gillian blushed a little.

_Already did. And then some._

Her fingers ran over the phone, trying to type in a response.

-I'm sensing a ploy here

-what? ploy? I know not of what you speak.

-I'll think about it, Em. Maybe.

- :) :) :)

-Your determination is impressive

-LOL. gotta go. class is starting. ttyl

-Bye, Emily.

Gillian shut off her cell phone just as her work phone rang. Cal's number came up on her call display. They had uncanny timing. The Lightmans.

_"Morning, luv." _

"How's it going?" She loved the way the timbre of his voice changed ever so slightly when he spoke to her lately. There was a new intimacy between them now, one that was audible in his voice. Maybe not to anyone else, but Gillian caught it and it thrilled her.

_"Waiting for Torres at the Mayor's office. Thinking about you and what you're wearing." _

Her face lit up into a smile. "Guess."

_"Is it tight?" _

Her eyes scanned her dark green, two-piece suit. "No."

_"Why not?" _

She smiled. "Because I'm at work."

_"Come to think of it, you should only wear tight dresses when you're working with me. Should be a rule." _

"In that case I'm going to break it tomorrow."

_"You trying to make me jealous?" _

Her smile grew. "Yes." She fiddled with her pen. "Have you told Emily yet?"

_"Told her what?" _

"About...us?"

_"Not yet...was thinking I'd tell her in person when she got here for Christmas. Was, uh...was hoping you'd spend it with us." _

"Is that an invitation?"

There was a pause on the other end. _"Yeah...it is. You don't have to answer now, luv."_

"Okay, I'll let you know."

_"But you can say yes now if you want to." _

Gillian bit her lip. _Yes. _

But she didn't get around to saying it out loud.

_"Here comes Torres. Gotta go. Love you." _

Gillian put down the receiver.

_Love you. _

He said it so easily. At the end of every conversation, every phone call. And there had been a lot of them since that night in his office a week ago.

Of course she loved him too. Probably had for longer than he loved her. But Gillian couldn't bring herself to say it aloud yet and she wasn't sure why. After all, they both knew she did.

It scared her a little. Not how quickly they were moving, but the ease with which it was happening. How natural it felt to be Cal Lightman's other half. In every sense of the word. He'd mention future plans, like spending a week in California for Emily's graduation, and include her in those plans.

_"You'll have time to visit your mother in LA, while we're there." _

As if it was obvious that they'd be together four years from now.

_One week with you and already I can't imagine my life without you. _

"It's madness..." she mumbled aloud. Or was it? Maybe the real madness was waiting this long to get here.

_To think, we haven't even slept together yet. _

Not that it stopped her from thinking about it.

Like now. When she should have been thinking about Trevor Hastings. The forty-year old rapist who'd tried to kill himself last night. Whom she had to see fifteen minutes from now.

Gillian heard the beeping sound of her office door being opened and her stomach clenched a little. Doug Penn was the only who had both the access and the audacity to constantly storm into her office unannounced.

But this time is wasn't Penn. It was an agitated Alex Almeida, his kindly face red and flushed, as if he'd run up several flights of stairs to get here.

"Why didn't you tell me, Gillian?"

"Tell you what?"

"That Penn made you take Kline!"

Gillian hadn't thought about it because she'd pushed all thoughts of him from her mind. "It's over with," she shrugged. "Besides, Penn had a point. I had no documentable reasons for avoiding him."

Alex looked at her incredulously. "You're an expert on voice stress analysis and micro-expressions! If you say the guy made you uncomfortable, it's because you _saw_ something! Penn knows that. He should have some damn respect for your skills!"

"Alex, look...it doesn't matter anymore."

"Now that he's your patient, Penn will try to make you keep him. 'Til he leaves this facility."

Gillian hadn't thought of that either. Didn't want to after the way she reacted to their one session. "He's here for what? A few months? What are the chances he'll need to see a shrink again?"

Alex sat down across from her with a sigh. "It's not even that, Gillian. It's Penn. You know he did this on purpose just to stick it to us. He's such a sad and miserable little man and it eats at him that we're not."

"Hey..." Gillian thought that maybe there was more to this tirade than he was letting on. "Thought after all this time he didn't get to you anymore?"

"He doesn't get to me anymore because I won't let him. Because he knows better but now he thinks he can take it out on you. I won't let him get away with that either, Gillian. You coming here...means I finally have someone in this building who makes me happy. Someone who isn't miserable or raging or suicidal or homicidal...and I'm not letting that bastard ruin that." He was fiddling with one of her pens now. "I'm going to sit on him, Gillian. I am. I'm going to do it."

Gillian laughed. "Okay."

He didn't look even mildly amused. "I'm sorry. He shouldn't have done that."

"Not your fault, Alex, and I don't need you to fight my battles. I'm a big girl."

"I'm the one who asked him to take on Kline. It wasn't your battle to fight."

Gillian didn't want to keep talking about Kline. Anything but him. "Is this a good time to tell you that Lightman wants to meet with you?"

"What?" Her question took Alex by surprise, jarring him out of his irritation with Penn. He leaned into her. "Meet with me...for a job?"

"Yeah..." Gillian scribbled down Cal's cell number on a piece of paper and handed it to him. "Give him a call."

"Really?" He was genuinely taken aback. "He wants me to give him a call?"

"Yes. Call him."

"Tell me," he questioned. "How come you don't go back there, Gillian?"

It was a good question. Part of her wanted to. Wanted her bright, sunny office back, along with its European espresso machine. More than that she craved the challenges of the cases they dealt with. Missed working with the brilliant mind of Cal Lightman.

_Although right now, the two of us being around each other at work is a lousy idea. We'd never get anything done. _

"I signed a contract here. I'm going to honour it."

"You say that like people don't break contracts all the time. Like it's written in stone."

_I ran from the Lightman Group. I'm not going to run back to it. Not until I'm ready and I'm not ready yet. Being with Cal Lightman outside of work is all I can handle right now. _

Not that she'd say any of that out loud and when Alex realized that was all he was getting out of her he let it go.

"Anything I should know about Lightman, to prepare myself?"

"Well..." she thought about it. "Cal Lightman is brilliant and he'll probably anticipate the answer to every question he asks you. He'll see right through even the most minor deception, so don't even try. Keep it brief because he often has the attention span of an eight-year old. And on certain days...he's certifiably insane." She grinned. "Good luck!"

* * *

><p><em>Washington DC<em>

_Later_

"You didn't have to come," Gillian reiterated as she pulled her car into the parking lot. "I know you have work tonight. I don't want my dog to be responsible for the demise of the Lightman Group."

Cal chuckled. "Your dog's gotta know that I'm part of the package. Right from the start. Animals need to know these things."

"Do they?"

His hand was resting on her thigh and when his thumb inched under her skirt, Gillian almost hit the bumper of an Escalade that jutted out of its parking spot.

"You're distracting me," she admonished, pushing his hand off her leg.

"Only fair. You always distract me."

"Not when you're driving."

"Always."

Gillian gave him a look after she parked the car.

"What?" he questioned, innocently. "Is it my fault you're so gorgeous?"

She rolled her eyes as she got out of the car.

"How am I supposed to keep my hands off you?" he added, draping an arm around her as they walked towards the animal shelter.

"I don't know." Gillian fastened the belt around her trench coat. It was cold outside. "Restraint? Willpower?"

"Eight years I practised restraint," he shot back as his hold on her tightened a little. "Didn't say anything when you held on to your marriage even though that wanker clearly made you miserable. Kept my hands off...well, mostly kept my hands off, when you started dating that confused, undercover doc. It's all gone, luv. The restraint and the willpower. I emptied the tank in those eight years."

Gillian smirked and leaned into him, giving him a kiss on the cheek before they entered the building. "Alright, alright...you win."

Truth was it felt good to be loved like this. Fiercely. Unapologetically. And it felt just as good to be wanted again. This was so different from the last two men she loved. Alec, whose public life was so full of restraint he needed the wild release of cocaine at the end of the day to make up for it. And Dave, whose life was so full of secrets, he could only love her cautiously, and in the end, not enough to let go of the work that meant the world to him.

With Cal Lightman what you saw was what you got and what Gillian saw tonight was a man who was crazy about her and who wasn't shy about letting the world know it.

"Dr. Foster," the lady at the reception desk greeted her. "I think Moritz knows he's going home today. I've never seen him this excited."

"Moritz?" Cal asked as they walked down to the animal cages. "That his name?"

"Yeah," Gillian explained. "He's part Bernese mountain dog, so his ex-owner named him Moritz. After St. Moritz."

"Why'd his owner leave him here?"

"Apparently he moved back home to Russia and he couldn't take him."

"Not because he's a psycho-dog then."

Gillian smiled as she approached his cage. "He's a big softie. You're going to love him."

"Bloody hell," Cal exclaimed. "Big is the operative word here. You didn't mention you're getting a grizzly bear."

"He is a big boy," Gillian agreed. She opened the cage and the massive, brown dog came to her as though he really did know that he was going home. Finally. He licked her face as a thank you and all the reservations she had about taking him, because he really was huge, melted away. She put her hands on his big, slobbering face and rubbed the back of his ears.

Cal made a face. "My lips are not going near your face anytime soon."

Gillian smirked. "Suddenly you've got willpower?"

"All it took was a drooling dog the size of Manhattan."

Gillian filled out the requisite paperwork, as she spied Moritz winning over Cal from the corner of her eye. First there was yelping and tugging and inspecting, then tail-wagging and finally acceptance and affection. By the time they left the shelter, Cal was the one who held on to the leash.

He really should've gone back to the office afterwards but instead Cal joined her as they took Moritz for his first, chilly walk in a park near her house. He even ran after him when Moritz started chasing a squirrel.

And when one his warm hands linked with hers, Cal promptly broke his promise of keeping his lips away from her face.


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: **While explicit details isn't really my thing, this chapter might be a stronger T rating than the rest of them. Just in case that isn't your thing. :) Thanks too for those still sticking with this and taking the time to leave me your feedback! It's always, always appreciated. Current couply happiness aside, the story hasn't quite its course, so for those wanting it to go on a little longer, there you go.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 24 <strong>

_"And this old world is a new world and a bold world for me...and I'm feelin' good."_

_DC Central Detention Facility_

Cal Lightman had originally planned to send Loker here to interview the jailed, drug-dealing basketball coach but when he realized it would mean an excuse to see her, he decided to go himself, even though he had way too much on his plate today.

Seeing her might put him behind schedule but it would make his whole damn workload infinitely more bearable. Besides, he wanted to see where she worked.

A guard led him into her office, after she buzzed him in. Cal specifically told him not to announce who the visitor was, wanting to see her surprise.

He wasn't disappointed.

Her beautiful face lit up when she saw him. "Cal? What are you doing here?"

"Had to interview one of the inmates for a case. Thought I'd pop in and say hi."

She smiled as she got up to kiss him. "Hi."

Cal noticed the camera in the corner of her ceiling, pointing to it. "Does that thing work?"

"Yeah...it does."

He let go of her. "Dunno if I wanna make out with you if we have an audience."

"Ah, come on. Our security guys deserve some entertainment." She turned to the camera. "Right, Dwayne?"

"I never knew this side of you."

"We never dated before."

"Hmmm..." Cal kissed her again, before pulling away. "Good point."

"It's nice a surprise," she added, serious again. "To see you here. By the way, how'd it go with Alex?"

He slouched down in the chair across from her desk. "Nice guy. Lots of experience. But none of it related to deception detection."

"He took Rader's course."

"Like I said, zero deception training."

Gillian rolled her eyes. "Come on...more than one of our employees took that course. It's a legit certification course."

"You think I should hire him?"

"Yes," she nodded. "I think you should."

"Alright," he nodded. "I'll make him an offer. Can I make you one too?"

Her eyes met his and for a moment he saw hesitation.

_Caught you. You wanna come back. You're just not ready to admit it. _

It made him happy, what he saw. Even if it didn't last more than an instant. Even if she was trying to hide it from him.

Her desk phone rang and Gillian picked it up. "Saved by the bell," she whispered before pressing the receiver against her face.

Cal studied her face with interest as she had her conversation. Saw her unease and irritation after she hung up. "Can you wait for a minute?" she asked him, getting up and straightening her skirt. "Boss just summoned me."

"He can't tell you what he wants over the phone?"

"Apparently not."

"S'alright, I can wait," he told her, turning around to check her out as she hastily left the office. She had great legs and it bothered him to know that every straight, sex-starved inmate had to be checking them out as well, every time she walked past them.

Cal exhaled, examining her office now. It was bleak and depressing in comparison to the bright, cheerful space that Ria Tores now occupied back at the Lightman Group. There were no windows here. No decorative items or anything that might've made it feel inviting.

He couldn't imagine spending eight hours a day in here.

His eyes darted to the top of her desk. To the Pentagon mug he remembered her using back at the Group and the gold-engraved Waterman pen she liked to write with. Cal hated it because he knew it was an old gift from Alec. He toyed with it and wondered if she'd notice if he threw it away.

Spotting a pile of folders on her desk, they barely caught his attention until he saw a familiar name on one of them.

_Kline, H. _

Cal's pulse quickened as he pulled it out of the pile and opened it. It was a patient assessment. Done by Foster and dated just over a week from today.

He didn't know what to think when Gillian came back into the room.

"What's this?" he demanded, holding up the folder. "Tell me this isn't what it looks like."

She snatched the folder from his hand. "_This_...is confidential patient information. You have no right to look at this."

"You swore to me that you had no intention of getting near this guy again and now I come in here and find out he's one of your patients? What the hell, Gill? Have you lost your mind? Do you have a bloody death wish?"

She was rattled by the accusation. "This is none of your business, Cal."

"You lied!" He was so angry he couldn't think straight.

"I didn't lie to you!" she cringed. "I had no intention of getting near him again. It just didn't...work out that way."

"Did you forget the way that psycho looked at you at the police station?" He got up and moved right into her space, needing her to_ get_ this. "He wanted to kill you, Gill! For christ's sake, you need to stay out of this guy's path. I know you have the right to refuse a patient...I know you do!"

Her anger was catching up to his and she gave him a little shove, one that pushed him out of her space. "You need to stop this."

Cal didn't care that she was pissed. "Why would you take this guy on as a patient after you swore to me that you wouldn't?"

"I tried," she repeated.

He looked at her in disbelief. "You_ tried_? What the hell kind of explanation is that?"

"It's the truth!"

"This is bloody unbelievable..."

"This is my job, Cal. You_ know_ this!"

"It's your job to play shrink with Hunter Kline?"

"He isn't the first psycho I've dealt with. And he's not the first who's wanted to kill me and he probably won't be the last. This job means I deal with patients that have mental disorders. Including those with severe psychoses. And look..." She waved her hands into the air. "I'm still around."

Cal ran a hand through his hair. "What a fantastic way of looking at it."

"It's also the truth. Thought you were big on that."

"I trusted you when you said you'd stay from him."

"And I'd like you to trust me when I tell you I tried!"

His accusations hurt her. Cal didn't care. If that's what it took to make her take this seriously so be it. "Looks like you didn't try hard enough."

"I think..." she seethed. "You need to leave. I'm not having this argument with you here in my office."

Finally. She was saying something he agreed with. He did need to leave because all of _this _was making him crazy. Her need to stay here. The thought of her in the same room as Kline again. It made him want to drag her out kicking and screaming if need be. "Yeah..." he said softly. "You're right. I need to leave. Before I say something I'll regret."

"Thought maybe you'd done that already," he heard her say cynically as he walked away.

* * *

><p><em>Lightman Group, Washington DC <em>

It was late and he'd stopped working and being productive by the time he caught her silhouette in the doorway, leaning against it and observing him, until she decided to step inside. She took off her trench coat and shawl, draping them both over his couch and walking over to where he was sitting at his desk.

"Do you know what time it is? Ever look at your fancy watch?"

He wasn't sure surprised him more. The fact that she was here. Or that he didn't detect any anger in her voice.

"Leslie Rotblatt's a tyrant," he explained. "Her account's keeping us afloat but at the same time she thinks she owns us. That's problem when you've got a police chief that has the same idea."

"Ah..." Gillian nodded, sitting down on the armrest of his chair, close enough that he could feel the her body warmth. It was hard to think, or care, about work and deadlines, or anything really, when she was this close to him. She'd changed out of her suit and into a pair of jeans and boots and a soft red blouse. Silk maybe.

"Nice music," she pointed out, enjoying the tune that was coming from the old CD player Emily gave him eons ago. His daughter made fun of him because of it. For still using it, when in her world all music was downloaded. CDs were for dinosaurs.

Cal smiled. It _was _nice. Nina Simone's unforgettable voice rang through the air, letting them know she was feeling good.

"I forget sometimes," Gillian pointed out. "That you have good taste in music."

_And women._

There was another CD back there too. A jazz CD he bought years ago when he heard it playing at a record store. It was the same one he'd caught Foster listening to in her old office at the Pentagon. He bought it because it made him think of her. Because he felt like she was with him every time he listened to it. He'd often play it late at night when he was the only one left in the building.

Cal still hadn't told anyone why he bought it. Gillian had no idea that he had it. Maybe one day he'd tell her.

"You pissed with me?" he asked, wanting to know. He felt bad about the way he'd left the jail. Like a teenager having a tantrum.

"Should I be?"

"Yeah, you should." He admitted. "I was an arse. Sorry."

"Okay," she nodded, pensive. "Apology accepted."

"I shouldn't have come into your work and gone off about Kline."

"No, you shouldn't have," she agreed.

"So you are pissed?"

"Do I look pissed?"

He smiled. God, he loved her. Sometimes Gillian really was the anti-Zoe. He saw a lot of things written on her beautiful face right now but anger wasn't one of them. "No."

"I get why you don't want me around him. I don't want to be around him either. But it's my workplace and I'll deal with my own problems there."

"He's your problem because of me and Wallowski."

"Cal..._come on_."

"There's not a lot of people that scare me, Gill. But he does and I hate where you're working," he blurted out. "Couldn't stand it if anything happened to you. Just the thought of losing you..." He couldn't finish the sentence because there was no way to finish it. Never would be. It was an unthinkable thought.

"You're not going to lose me," she smirked. "You only just got me."

He told himself he wasn't going to do this. Wasn't going to say anything about her coming back to the Group until she brought up the subject herself. But Kline changed everything. "I hate everything about that jail. Hate that you're working behind bars with armed guards and counselling violent criminals."

"Just because they're behind bars doesn't mean they're all violent. Or even criminals. There are a lot of men in that jail that really need to be in a mental health care facility."

Cal closed his eyes and groaned. That was such Foster response.

"Come back here. To the Group."

It was a plea and she would've known it was from the tone of his voice. But he didn't care. Seeing that guy's name on her desk sent a chill up his spine. He didn't believe in premonitions or any of that crap but what he felt was real and it scared him. After today he wanted her out of there and if pleading is what it took so be it. She meant more to him than his pride.

Gillian slid off his arm rest and stood behind his chair now, her fingers digging into his shoulders. "Can we stop talking about work? Please?"

Cal groaned when one of her hands found a knot and started kneading into it. The pressure she applied was just right, hard enough to loosen the knot but not too hard that it hurt. It was pure bliss.

"You're deflecting," he murmured.

"I'm massaging, not deflecting. Want me to stop?"

"No," he admitted with an involuntary moan. "Don't stop. Ever."

She laughed, making him smile. It was easily one of his favourite sounds in the world and it was making him forget everything now. Everything except the way her hands felt on his skin as they slipped under his shirt and expertly eased the tension out of his shoulders.

He surrendered to her touch until the very last knot was gone and he felt like a new man.

"Better?" she asked, leaning down, whispering the question into his ear. Her hair fell down onto his neck, making his skin tingle. It had gotten longer over the last few months and he liked it that way. Liked running his fingers through it.

"How'd you get so good at this?" he asked.

"I was married to a man with a very stressful job."

Cal made a face as he raised his arm to grab hers, swivelling his chair as he tugged at her arm forcing her to move from rear to front, so she was facing him. Gillian went one step further and sat down on his lap, straddling him as she faced him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"If we're not allowed to talk about work, we're not allowed to talk about your ex. Deal?"

Gillian smiled. "Deal. How about we don't talk at all?"

She leaned in to kiss him, her slender body pressed against his. He loved the taste and feel of her, the warmth and the softness of her skin on his was something he knew he'd never tire of. Never get enough of. It was a never-ending desire.

His hands slipped underneath her, pulling her higher and closer and he could feel himself getting hard. Knew if he didn't stop now it would be next to impossible.

His heart was pounding after she stopped kissing him and his hands made their way underneath her blouse, thumbs running circles on the bare skin of her back in spite of his resolve.

Gillian's head tilted a little until her lips found his earlobe and he felt her teeth press into it, just as her hands pulled out his shirt and her fingers dug into his side. She was so soft and hard and rough and gentle all at once. It was making him crazy.

"Gill..."

Meanwhile, her hands inched lower, below the belt of his jeans.

"Yeah?" Her impossibly blue eyes met his, pupils fully dilated, and it thrilled him to see how much she wanted him. Made him muster every ounce of willpower to stop from fully undressing her right now.

Her breasts were still pressed against his chest.

Cal put his hands on her hips and pushed her down a little.

"You're killing me."

"In a good way?"

"No...yes..." He couldn't talk. He wanted her so bad. Right now. Right here.

_But not like this. Not at work. Not in this room of all places. _

He'd thought about making love to her long before last week, long before it was a viable option. Every part of her was a perfect fit in his arms because he'd long ago memorized every curve of her body. Could trace each one of them with his eyes closed.

But still, he wanted to do this right. Not that he was entirely sure what doing it right entailed, but he did know he wanted something different than what happened with the last few women he'd had sex with. Impulsive, messy, reckless nights of passion.

This was Gillian. He loved her. Wanted her to know it meant something. Something more than a biological impulse, no matter how hard it was to stave off that impulse right now.

Not that he was much of a fancy hotel room-flowers-and-candles kind of guy. But at the very least he figured that having sex with Gillian Foster would include waking up next to her in the morning.

Her eyes narrowed, hands resting on his chest now. "You don't want...?"

"No," he shook his head. "I mean yes...bloody hell, yes. But not...like this."

She leaned her head against his chest with a sigh. "I locked the door on the way in."

"Ah yeah?" He lowered his chin and buried his face in her hair. God, she smelled good. Felt so good in his arms.

"Yeah, I did." A lazy smile draped her lips as she pushed herself up towards him again, before turning so her back was pressed against his chest, giving him the chance to kiss the nape of her neck. Thank god he'd invested in a sturdy chair. "You know...we wasted so much time already and tomorrow...world could end tomorrow."

It would've amused him, her mad reasoning, if he wasn't so mesmerised by rise and fall of her chest. The steady beats of her heart pounding against his skin.

Cal's fingers started undoing the belt of her jeans with a will all their own now. Sliding his fingers past her smooth belly, inching them lower to the wet, warmth below, concentrating on her face for direction as they explored. A moan escaped her lips when his index finger found the right spot and focused on it. Pushing and pulsating.

"Join me," she whispered, biting her lips to hold back the sensation.

They were on the floor before he could agree. Before he could say anything else. Everything was instinct and impulse now for both of them.

He was used to taking the lead when it came to sex. The way he did with everything in life. But not this time.

He let her undress him first, push his pants over his hips and frantically undo one button after another on his shirt, while he hastily followed suit, sliding off her boots, her jeans, letting the tips of his fingers explore every inch of skin below while her hands moved to his hips and guided him towards her and into her, pressing their bodies together.

Their eyes met one last time, and when he got the unspoken okay, actually it was more of a_ hell yes, _Cal couldn't hold back any longer. He relished in the release he needed so desperately inside of her, not realizing until that moment that she needed it just as much. Crying out as she arched her back in response to his thrusts, her thighs trembling against his before she curled her legs around him, her whole body quivering with pleasure.

Her skin was hot and smooth and Cal marvelled at how perfect it was to finally have her like this. All of her. Gorgeous and naked in his arms, wanting him as much as he wanted her.

As if it making love on his office floor was the most natural thing in the world.

Her breathing was as heavy as his now but they weren't done. Not yet.

Not until much later when they were both lying on their backs, sore, exhausted and drenched in sweat, staring up at the ceiling.

"I, uh, didn't plan on this..." he admitted.

Gillian turned sideways and draped one of her legs over his. her fingers on his chest, drawing circles in rhythm with the steady rise and fall. "I did. Came here with the sole purpose of seducing you."

"Sneaky."

She snuggled into him and he pulled her closer, not noticing until it was too late that she was reading him.

"Cal? Do you...regret it?"

"You kidding me?" He'd do it all over again right now if he had the energy. "But..."

"But...?" There was confusion on her face. A trace of hurt too.

Cal pulled her closer still and kissed her. Letting her know it wasn't what she was thinking. That the last thing in the world he'd ever regret was making love to her.

"But...I didn't want to do it here. Not considering..." Why was he bringing that night up again? Why now when he was so ridiculously happy?

"Hey..." she whispered.

Her fingers tenderly trailed his hairline. She didn't need to tell him she loved him. He saw it and felt it in every gesture.

"I thought maybe it was time to make some good memories of this room again."

Then he grinned. "How the hell am I gonna any work done in here now? Won't be able to look anything and not think of...this."

She smiled too. "My plan backfired."

He didn't care. He'd take those thoughts over the other ones any day. Even if the other ones would never go away. Even now when he turned to the leather sofa he still saw her blood there.

Cal shivered.

"Cold?"

"Mmm..."

"Me too."

They'd get cold fast like this. His office was cool and they were naked and sweaty.

He rolled over. She was wearing only her blouse now, unbuttoned, and he ran his fingers over her naked stomach, pushing himself off the floor to move on top of her. Keeping his weight off her with his straightened arms and knees as he bent down to kiss her, cat-like, starting at the top, getting a lingering taste of her lips and then slowly moving lower, feeling her fingers in his hair as his lips trailed her body, from breasts to belly and lower still, enjoying the sounds she made as he explored.

"Warmer?" he asked.

"Not yet," she giggled. "You?"

He lowered himself so that his skin was on hers again, their bodies pressed together. "Now?"

"Yeah."

"I'm going to crush you."

"It's okay. Worse ways to die," she whispered into his ear, pulling him down, her tongue weaving past his lips and slipping back into his mouth.

"Come home with me," he breathed afterwards.

"Can't."

"Why?"

"Moritz."

Of course. The grizzly bear. He had to be walked and fed.

When his weight got too much to bear she gave him a push until they were lying side by side again, her stunning blue eyes gazing into his. "Come home with_ me_."

"Alright." There really was no other possible answer.

"You can walk the dog at six in the morning."

Cal frowned.

"I'll make you breakfast."

"Baked beans and toast?"

She grimaced. "No. Gross."

Cal couldn't care less about breakfast or walking the dog. He just wanted her next to him when he woke up.

Gillian slowly pushed herself off the floor and started getting dressed.

"Need a hand?" he offered once he was mostly clothed again too. His nimble fingers helping her slip her blouse into her jeans. It was hard keeping his hands off her. Even harder than now than it was back when keeping them on her wasn't an option.

Cal helped her slip into her coat and draped an arm over her shoulders when they finally left his office.

He grinned as he turned off the hallway lights and caught her eyes checking him out. He couldn't have imagined a better way to end the day if he tried.


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

_Central Detention Facility, Washington DC _

"Give me his folder, Gillian," Alex Almeida ordered.

"I can handle this, Alex," she lied. "He's my patient." If she could really handle it she wouldn't have felt nauseous the minute she saw his name on her roster of patients when she came in this morning.

Like so many inmates serving a short sentence, Hunter Kline was being considered for early release. All he needed was a final psych evaluation to determine whether he'd get it.

"No he's not," Alex corrected her. "He's_ my_ patient. You borrowed him for a day, that's all. Now give me the folder."

Gillian did as he asked, not sure whether she felt relief or trepidation.

"He's a great actor. He's going to fool you."

Her suggestion disappointed him a little. "Look, Gillian. Maybe I'm not a deception expert. But I spent half of my life in Brazil pretending I was straight so I could finish my studies without getting harassed. I do know something about acting."

"That's not what I meant..."

"Yes, it is," he told her. "Have a little faith in me please?"

Gillian winced. It was rude. To suggest he'd be fooled so easily. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay." Alex told her. "I forgive you this one," he added with a smile. "Because I know this guy does something crazy to you."

"He doesn't..."

"Gillian?"

"Fine" She gave up pretending and exhaled. "Thank you...for taking him."

"He's my patient," he reminded her, already reading over her initial assessment.

"I don't want Penn to give you a hard time over this."

Alex grinned. A big, giant Cheshire cat grin. "I'm going to tell Doug that I'm taking this guy on because he was mine to begin with, remind him that he had no right to hand him to you after I explicitly asked him not to and then...then I'm going to give him my two weeks notice."

Gillian's face lit up in surprise. "It's official? You got the job?"

"Got the offer from Lightman this morning."

She got up to give him a hug. "That's fantastic."

Mixed emotions toyed with her when he threw his massive arms around her. Part of her was ecstatic because she knew how much he wanted it, and because of that, she wanted it for him too. But another part of her was already missing him.

_It won't be the same here without you. You're the best part about this place. _

"Thanks," he acknowledged. "Couldn't have done it without you paving the way."

"Not true," she told him. "Your credentials speak for themselves."

"Liar," he shot back. "See, already I'm starting to spot them."

Gillian laughed. "Whatever."

His dark brown eyes met hers with curiosity now. "You didn't tell me Lightman wants you back too. I mean, he_ really_ wants you back there."

Gillian blushed and she wondered what else Cal had told him.

"I told that him you're crazy about me and that having me there would only give you added incentive to come back. I think that's why I got the job."

"You did not!"

Alex chuckled. "Maybe I did. Maybe I didn't."

"Alex?"

"You won't be able to resist when both of us gang up on you and when you realize that after I leave here, no one is going to sit on Doug for you when he acts like a jerk. You'll be back at the Lightman Group within months. Weeks maybe."

Gillian rolled her eyes.

"You know it," he added, then got serious again. "I should go."

"Can you..." she couldn't finish her sentence.

"Yes, I'll let you know how it goes," he told her, already halfway out her office.

Gillian bit back a smile as her unease abated. She didn't want to deal with Kline again. Ever. But, truth was, aside from Lightman, she didn't trust anyone else to either. Not for something as important as deciding an early release.

The thought made her shiver. Sent goose bumps running along her entire arm.

Knowing he was here made her feel safe.

Then again, what difference did it make? Whether he'd be out now or in a few months. Either way he wouldn't be here long.

"Maybe if he stays a little longer, he'll screw up enough to do something that'll extend his stay," she mumbled to herself.

It was wishful thinking but she couldn't help it.

* * *

><p><em>Later<em>

It was late afternoon when she ran into Alex Almeida again. This time it was Gillian who popped into his office.

"Gillian," he said. "Glad you stopped by. There's something I forgot to give you this morning."

"What is it?"

He took out one of the countless containers of Tupperware he always had on him.

"Maurice made risotto arancini with grilled calamari last night. They're..." He emitted a guttural sound that was vaguely orgasmic. "To _die_ for."

Gillian opened the container. It did look appetizing. Even cold and a day old. Except that her stomach was still in knots because no matter how much she tried to push the thought to the back of her mind all she could think about was Alex's session with Kline.

She'd been dying to ask how it went. But whenever Alex was free, she'd been with a patient and vice versa.

"Looks amazing," she agreed. "Thank you."

"I figure I should spoil you while I still can." He told her. "Today and tomorrow."

"What?"

"When I gave Doug my notice he told me I could pack up my things tomorrow."

Gillian looked at him in disbelief. "_What?"_

Alex shrugged his shoulders. Indifferent. "Doesn't surprise me. He can't handle the thought of someone ditching him."

Gillian marvelled that someone like Penn was assessing the psychological well-being of others. "I'm sorry..." she said softly. "After all your time here, you deserved so much better than that."

"I don't care one bit, Gillian," he told her. "Means I have a two week vacation before starting my new job. Or maybe I can start that one early. You're the one I feel sorry for. You'll be getting a lot more work."

"I'll refuse to take on your patients," she insisted. "Penn can take them. What's he going to do? Fire me?"

"Don't put it past him," he told her. "He'd rather backlog these inmates for weeks and months, than admit he needs you around here."

Gillian sighed. Alex had a point. He would.

She fought back a sudden urge to storm into Doug Penn's office and tell him exactly what she thought.

"Aren't you going to ask me how it went?" Alex prodded her. "You're dying to. I know."

Gillian bit her lip. She was. But her anger with Penn momentarily pushed it from her thoughts. "How did it go?" she asked.

"Honestly, Gillian, that guy creeped me out. I know we're supposed to look at people like him with clinical objectivity. To go through the DSM and separate the man from the disorder with neat little labels. But five minutes in a room with that guy and I wanted to get out. I can't see or hear all the things you can...but I can see why he gets to you now."

"And?"

"I turned down the recommendation for an early release. The guy's a pathological liar. I didn't see any sincerity in his so-called remorse."

Gillian exhaled. Relief was what she felt now. Relief in knowing that he'd be here at least another few months.

Until she took a closer look at Alex's face.

There was something else. Something he wasn't telling her.

"Alex?"

"Doug overturned my decision."

"_What?" _Gillian couldn't believe what he was saying. "Why?"

"You know he has the right to," Alex reminded her. "And tell me you're not that naive that you're wondering why? It's his final "fuck you" to me."

Gillian was so angry she couldn't catch her breath. "How could he?"

"Because..." he paused. Gillian always marvelled at his capacity to stay calm. There were few people in the world who made her seem impulsive and excitable but Alex Almeida did. "Because it's the only joy her gets in life? Throwing around his weight at work? Don't even try to understand it. Hunter Kline would have been out soon anyway. A few days or a few months, doesn't make a lot of difference, Gillian."

He was right of course. On both counts.

She just didn't see it that way right now. The knot in her stomach tightened and for a second she thought she might be sick.

"Don't," he repeated softly, eyeing her with a hint of concern. "Don't let them get to you, okay? Not Kline or Penn. Neither of them are worth it."

* * *

><p><em>Lightman Group, Washington DC<em>

Ria Torres was in a rush. Leslie Rotblatt decided she needed their services at the last minute this afternoon to examine a jury pool and Lightman was already scheduled for a video conference with their Vegas client.

So of course she got saddled with this one. Like everything else she got saddled with.

"Hey Ria..." she heard Loker shout from the lab when he saw her dashing by.

"No time," she mumbled.

"You gotta see this."

She stopped and poked her head in the doorway. "Can it wait?"

"Sure it can wait," he said. "But don't yell at me for not trying to tell you as soon as I found out."

Now there was no way she could keep going. She stepped into the lab. "What is it?"

"Take a look at this," he said pointing to one of several video screens in front of them.

"It's the Lightman Group security camera. First floor hallway," she noted when she saw the view and the date and time on the lower right hand corner. "Don't you have anything else to do besides look at security footage?"

"One of the cameras jammed this morning," he told her. "Thought I might try and save the company some of the money we don't have by fixing it myself instead of calling in a technician."

"Don't we have a contract with these guys?" Torres questioned him. "They have to fix it for us."

"We _did_," Loker told her. "Lightman cancelled it to save money."

"Oh..." Torres should have known that. That and a zillion other things about the day to day operation of this company that she was still learning about. "So what am I looking at?"

"Wednesday night, just after 10pm..." he rewound the tape. "Look who's coming to visit Lightman."

Ria looked at the screen, her eyes widening in surprise. "Foster."

"Then," Loker went on. "The door of Lightman's office is closed and..." Loker fast forwarded the tape nearly an hour. "Tada...they come back out together, all happy and, look at that, hands all over each other!"

Ria watched the scene. The smiles on their faces. The way they looked at each other and the way Lightman pulled Foster closer.

It made her grin. She'd been right all along. Lightman did love her.

"Betcha ten bucks I know what they did in there."

"You already _owe_ me ten bucks," Ria told him. "_That's _his girlfriend," she realized. "That's why Lightman's been happy lately."

Loker didn't share her excitement. "Am I the only one who's concerned here?"

"Concerned?" Ria didn't get it. "Why should we be concerned? This is great. Those two are meant for each other. Lightman's happy, which means he's in a good mood. Foster deserves it and...maybe that means she'll come back to the Group. I can have a life again." She'd miss her new office but in she'd gladly give it back to Foster in exchange for a cut back on the stress of trying to help Lightman run this place.

"But why keep this from us?" he asked her, his anxiousness written all over his face. "If things are so great between them why_ isn't_ she coming back to the Group?"

Ria shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe it's brand new. Maybe they want to keep this to themselves before broadcasting it to the world?"

"Or maybe..." he added. "They're plotting something. Maybe they're selling the company and ditching all of us."

Brows narrowed, Ria stared at him. "That makes no sense. Lightman just hired a new guy to take over all the administrative crap I've been doing. Why would he hire someone if he's planning on selling the place?"

"He did? He hired someone?"

"Yeah, he did. Some psychologist named Almeida."

"He didn't tell me."

Ria cringed. Sometimes she wished Lightman would make a half-assed effort to give in to Loker's need for recognition. "He probably just forgot. He's got a lot on his mind lately."

"Clearly," Loker agreed. He offered Ria a lop-sided smile of defeat as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a grungy leather wallet. He yanked out a ten-dollar bill and handed it to her. "Here you go."

Ria grinned. That was lunch money right there. "Lightman's put his heart and soul into keeping this company afloat," she reassured him. "I don't think we're going anywhere."

"Hope you're right," he said. Even though he said it casually she saw the delight and the relief on his face. This job meant everything to him. "I was just getting used to getting paid again."

Lightman did it for Foster, Ria realized that too now. Did whatever he could to keep the company going because half of it was hers. Because if he could hang on to that, maybe he could hang on to her too.

_And he did it. _

She took another glance at the video screen. Her two bosses ambling down the corridor, late at night, so obviously smitten by each other. Like two teenage lovers.

It made her smile.

_Finally, Lightman. It's about damn time. _

* * *

><p><em>En route to Las Vegas <em>

"Hey..."

She felt something against her arm, rousing her from her nap. It was his hand, stroking it.

"We're gonna land soon," Cal told her quietly, reaching across her to grab her seatbelt and fasten it into place with a click.

Even half asleep, the simple gesture made her smile.

He who was so careless with his own life was so very careful with hers.

She yawned and stretched and pushed her head away from his shoulder, which she'd selfishly used as a pillow. It was as hard to pull away from it as it was to toss off the covers in the morning. She'd snuggle into him all day if she could, drawing from his warmth and strength. "Did I sleep that long?"

"You did," he confirmed. "Missed the bite-sized bags of pretzels." He pointed to two empty snack bags. "Had yours. Sorry."

"No mini-pretzels?" She made a disappointed face. "You owe me a bag."

"You'll have to wait 'til the flight back. I'm sure you can't buy this size."

"Excuses," she mumbled, stifling back another yawn.

"You alright, luv?" he asked, serious now. "How come you're so tired?"

"No reason. It's just...flying. Makes me sleepy."

"Ah yeah?"

She saw that he didn't believe her. Besides, it was a lousy lie. They'd flown together often enough to know that he was the one who usually dozed off while she did the paperwork.

She'd been exhausted after work because of Kline. Because he had an effect on her that was neither rational nor justifiable. He wound her up tightly like a coil and she'd carried around that pressure the entire day and it drained her.

"Wanna talk about it?" he offered.

Gillian knew she should tell him about Kline getting an early release. That he'd want to know. Had a right to know. Except that telling him wouldn't do anything except make him upset too.

_One of us is enough for now. _

She shook her head. "Nah...I'm okay. Really."

"Alright." He cocked his head sideways and let it drop. For now. Trusting her to tell him when she was ready. Then he smiled a little. "Be bloody ironic, wouldn't it, if you got sick after I lied to your boss about you being sick."

"Still can't believe you did that."

Lightman called in sick on her behalf. Told Penn she was too ill to come to work tomorrow. Or even to the phone. And then convinced her to join him in Vegas and help him on a case for the Lightman Group.

She should've put her foot down and said no. But he'd made this pleading face. And then he'd put his hands on her arms, his body enveloping hers as he'd pulled her into his space and kissed her like...

So here she was.

_Don't think this will make me come running back to the Group. This is a one-time deal. Because it's winter in DC. And apparently it's 70 degrees in Vegas. _

"I also can't believe you told Alex that babysitting my dog this weekend was a condition of getting hired at the Group."

Cal chuckled. "I didn't exactly say it was a condition..."

"He'd have done it if I'd asked," Gillian pointed out. "He loves dogs. Him and Maurice have two little poodles."

"Or as Moritz likes to call them: breakfast."

"Moritz will hide from them. Big chicken that he is."

"Hey, hey! Don't knock my guy like that. The big lug is no pushover."

Gillian raised her brows. "_Your _guy?"

Cal grinned. "I meant..._your_ bear."

"What'd you tell Penn anyway?" she asked him, feeling her ears pop as the plane began its descent.

"That you're sick. Horrible case of food poisoning. You were hunched over the toilet as I called..."

Gillian groaned. "Really, Cal? Was that necessary? _To my boss_?"

"Wanted to keep it real."

"You wanted to have some fun," she corrected him.

"He sounds like a tosser by the way. This Penn guy." Cal pointed out, his hand resting on her thigh. "I know a place that's got a much nicer boss."

"Ah yeah?" She took out a packet of gum and handed him one, before popping one into her mouth. "Next place I'm going to, I plan on being my own boss."

The plane plunged a little and then did a quick climb again, pressing them into their seats. Repeating the process no less than twice as it circled the airport.

Gillian put a hand on her stomach. Turbulence wasn't really her thing. "Come to think of it, I do feel a bit queasy."

Cal's hand weaved into hers reassuringly. "I am a doctor, you know. I can help."

Her eyes met his, letting them linger there, in his gaze. "Good to know."

"Did I mention I do house calls."

"Hotel calls?"

"Those too. Especially when I don't have to leave my room for them."

"Convenient."

Gillian turned to her window to see a sea of lights appearing below. She could make out some of the familiar hotel landmarks. Like the Stratosphere tower at one end of the Strip and the giant Luxor pyramid at the other. Normally coming here with Cal filled her with a sense of dread. This town did something to him that she didn't quite understand.

But, judging from the look he just gave her, Gillian had a feeling she wouldn't have to worry about him hitting the roulette table tonight.

Or leaving their room at all.


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

_Morning_

_Las Vegas, Nevada_

_He was standing at the edge of a cliff. _

_Dangerously close to the edge. _

_One step back and both of them would plunge into the desert valley below. _

_He had her firmly in his grasp, even as she struggled. _

_Cal wanted to yell at her to stop. Because if he lost his balance they'd both plummet to their deaths. _

_Maybe that's what he wanted. _

_Hunter Kline wasn't just holding on to Gillian at the edge of the cliff. He holding a knife in his hand too. One with a long, sharp blade. _

_Cal had a gun pointed at him, but he couldn't use it. Kline was using Gillian as a shield. Guarding his body with hers on one side, while on the other side there was nothing. Nothing but a sheer drop downwards into empty rock. _

_Kline was moving the blade towards her arm. Right where the scar was. Holding on to her wrist so tightly with his other hand that she couldn't wriggle out of his grasp. _

_And then Gillian screamed as he plunged the blade into her arm. _

_Hunter Kline barely batted an eye as Cal watched, horrified. _

_"Why are you so upset, Dr. Lightman? I'm only finishing what you started." _

_I'm going to kill you. _

"Cal?"

_"Cal?" _

He bolted awake and sat half upright as soon as he did.

Felt her hand on his chest and her sleepy face staring at him with a concerned look. "You okay?"

His heart was racing and he could barely get enough air into his lungs. Kline's voice rang through his ears.

_"...I'm only finishing what you started." _

"Yeah..." He didn't trust himself to say anything more. Not when she could pick up every subtle inflection in his voice.

"It was just a dream, Cal," she reassured him gently, rubbing his arm, her eyebrows still knotted together with worry. "Want to tell me about it?"

_No._

"You sure you're okay?"

He nodded.

Gillian wasn't so sure. She pulled off the covers. "I'll make you some tea," he told him. "Something herbal. Soothing."

Cal got a hold of her wrist. Pulled her back towards him. "Stay here," he growled.

They were both naked and from the tiny sliver of light coming through the curtains of their room, he saw a silhouette of her perfect breasts in the darkness.

He didn't need tea. He needed her gorgeous body next to his. Needed her warmth because all of a sudden he was chilled to the bone.

"Okay..." She didn't hesitate, snuggling into him. Letting him pull her towards him as close as he could, her lips trailing comforting kisses along the arm that he'd already wrapped around her.

"I love you," he whispered into her ear and she kissed him again.

He held on to her tightly. Until the sound of her steady heartbeat drowned out Kline's voice in his head and he finally fell back asleep.

* * *

><p><em>Later <em>

Lightman stopped fastening his tie and grinned as he watched her from across the room.

Slipping into her heels and fastening the thick, chic leather belt on her skirt. Effortlessly elegant.

It made him realize how much he missed having her by his side at work.

_Ria's a beautiful woman too, but you... you add a touch of class to the Lightman Group. _

Gillian caught him staring in the mirror and turned around, matching his grin with one of hers. "Look at you," she beamed. "Suit and tie. Must be Vegas." She stepped towards him and caught hold of his tie, using it to pull him towards her. "Need a hand with that?" she teased.

He coughed. "A hand in strangling me?"

"A hand in making you more handsome?"

"Impossible."

His fingers tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Gillian had cut it quite short a couple of days ago, in spite of his protests. Even though now he had to admit it looked good. The colour, the cut, the barely-shoulder-length...all of it suited her perfectly.

"So tell me about this guy. I only vaguely know him from what I've read on the news," she said, letting go of his tie and turning back to the mirror, putting in her earrings while he stood behind her and used the same mirror to fix his tie.

"Roman Prescott. He hired us to talk to his daughters. Thinks they're plotting to kill him and that they're stealing his fortune behind his back."

"What?"

"Did I mention he's agoraphobic, paranoid and obsessive compulsive?"

Gillian cringed. "So you brought me along because he needs a therapist? What were you thinking, some CBT or maybe some psychotherapy?"

He chuckled. "I know you're good but I dunno if we're here long enough to deal with his list of issues. Brought you along because I needed someone who'll keep me sane when dealing with this guy. And 'cause you make me look good."

"Any possibility it's true?" she asked.

"That you make me look good? I'd say so."

"I mean, his daughters...plotting to kill him? He's a gazillionaire after all, isn't he? They stand to inherit a lot of money."

"Nah...they're bloody Mother Theresas for putting up with the old man. Talked to them both more than once on video conferences. Didn't spot anything but love for paranoid papa Prescott. Shockingly."

"So why are we here?"

"Because he's willing to pay me an absurd amount of money to talk to his daughters in person and the company needs it."

"Alright then." She wasn't about to argue with that part.

Cal noticed something else then too. Something he probably should've noticed sooner if he'd paid attention. His fingers toyed with the sleeve of her blouse as he inched back into her space. "You haven't worn short sleeves since that night at the restaurant."

He saw the micro-expression on her face. The one that told him she'd been caught.

"It's winter, Cal."

"It's winter in DC," he corrected her. "We're in Vegas. 73 degrees out there. Welcome to the world of global warming."

Gillian sighed. "Look...you didn't exactly give me a lot of time to pack."

"Gill," he cut her off. "Stop it."

"Cal..." she was defensive now, gearing up for battle, even as he pulled up the sleeve of her blouse and gently ran his thumb along the scar underneath.

"You don't have to protect me from this," he reminded her.

"I don't want you to be full of guilt and remorse every time you see it!"

"That's my problem, Gill. Not yours."

"_Our_ problem."

"No."

She was wrong. He wasn't about to let her swear off all those stunning sleeveless dresses because he needed to grow a pair. If she could deal with that scar on her arm, god knows he'd have to find a way. Even if it haunted him at night when his defences were down.

"Remember how you reacted at the restaurant?" she said softly. It still hurt her. What he did that night. He saw that on her face too. Hating it.

"Not gonna happen again." This time he slowly folded back the sleeves of her blouse. "When I see it...it reminds me I got a second chance. Reminds me to think twice about the things I wanna do in anger. Most of all it reminds me to love you," he added. "Every bloody chance I get."

Her blue eyes moistened and she gave him a little push. "Christ, Cal...are you trying to make me cry? I just did my make-up."

"Don't do it for me, alright, luv?"

"Okay." Gillian nodded and the things he saw on her face now filled him with warmth. She might not be up for saying it yet but her face wasn't so good at hiding her love for him.

"Cal..."

"Yeah?"

"There's something I've been wanting to tell you."

"Go on." Maybe she was ready to say it after all.

"Kline's getting an early release."

Cal raised his brows._ Not_ what he was expecting. "I see."

"He'll be out in less than a week."

Anger rose in the back of his throat. Anger at the news. At the fact that she hadn't told him until now. His mood flip-flopped in seconds. "When did that happen?"

"Yesterday."

"You didn't think to tell me?" He didn't want to start a fight but he was too angry not to question it.

Gillian's face was apologetic. Like her words. "I'm sorry...I just..." She shrugged her shoulders. "It's the first time we went away together as...a _couple_. I didn't want us to start it by thinking about him."

Cal was more used to Zoe's battle style. Her defensiveness and inability to back down, which of course always justified his own bullheadedness.

Truth was, he didn't know what to do with an apology.

Or with the news she'd just sprung on him.

"You did," he reminded her. "_You_ thought about him."

"Yeah, I did," she admitted.

Of course she did. It's why she was so tense yesterday. So exhausted on the plane. It's the effect Kline had on her. On both of them.

"You know if we're gonna be...a couple, like you say, then you can't keep this stuff from me."

"I know," she was pensive now. "I was going to tell you. I just didn't want to tell you yesterday. Like how you didn't want to tell me about your nightmare right after you had it last night."

_Touché. _

"I'd never lie to you, Cal." A smile raised her lips. "As _if _I could. But more than that, I don't want to. But sometimes, there's things that I need to handle myself. Keep to myself."

"Kline isn't one of them."

"No," she agreed. "He's not."

His anger shifted to himself now. Hating that he'd brought that man into her life. Hating that he'd asked her to do the assessment at the police station just to help Wallowski salvage her case.

"What are we gonna do about it?" he wondered aloud.

"What can we do?" she questioned. "He's out. So what? You don't think he'll...do something stupid do you?"

_Yes. Yes, I do. _

"The guy wanted to kill us," Cal reminded her. "We both saw and heard the same things at the police station."

"So what? You think he's the first person I've assessed who wanted to kill me? Doesn't mean he's going to do anything about it. None of the others have."

"This guy kept his deviances from society his entire life, Gill. He lived a perfect lie and we blew that up in his face. You think he can go back to his respectable law firm now that we've raised the idea that he's into kiddie porn? We wrecked this guy's life! You think he's going to slink away into obscurity after we did _that_?"

"We didn't wreck anything. Wallowski's investigation did. Maybe you should worry about her. And yeah, I do think he'll go away," she told him. "I think he's too smart not to disappear until this...whole thing goes away. He'll be on the first flight to Thailand after his parole is over."

"You wanna believe that but you don't," he called her out on that lie.

"I want to believe it because it makes sense, Cal. He's about self-preservation. Coming after us is the exact opposite of that. Yeah...he gives me goose bumps but once I step away from that emotional reaction and look at this objectively I realized that we have no reason to fear this guy."

Cal raised his brows. One primary psychopathic tendency was a reckless lack of fear. It was how they got caught and it was the exact opposite of self-preservation.

"I know what you're thinking," she told him. "This guy's not your average nut. He's extremely intelligent."

_Which means he'll figure out a way to do this and get away with it. _

"And..." she waved her hand in the air. "This is exactly why I didn't tell you. Because now it's all your going to obsess over."

Sometimes she knew him too well for his liking.

"Obsess?" he was offended. "I don't obsess."

"Yeah, you do." She was smiling again and clearly didn't care about her make-up anymore as she leaned in towards him to give him a kiss. "And I don't want you to because it's pointless. There's nothing we can do about this. It's out of our control. I'm not going to live in fear because we pissed off Hunter Kline."

It was hard to argue when she was kissing him. Making him all hot and bothered.

"Not true..." he mumbled. "Plenty we can do. Starting with attack dog classes for Moritz."

A guttural groan escaped her lips and Cal wasn't sure whether it was because of what he said of because of the way his fingers trailed her lower back now.

She stepped back and whipped some of her lipstick off his lips with her index finger. "You're kidding, right?"

"Dead serious, luv." There were other things his mind was planning too. Like extended stays at her place. Along with a loaded gun.

He felt her hand on his wrist, raising it so she could look at the time on his Rolex.

"Oh my god...we're late."

"It's 'cause you can't keep your hands off me. Business then pleasure, luv. That's how it works at the Lightman Group. Forgot that already?"

She gave him a little shove out the door. "Pleasure? I don't remember that part when I worked there."

He strolled ahead of her as they walked down the massive corridor towards the elevators. Spinning around after she caught up to him, half running in her heels.

"So, you and me? A couple, yeah?" he mumbled as he draped his arm over her shoulder when they stepped into the elevator.

She raised a single eyebrow. "You okay with that?"

He shrugged his shoulders, turning sideways so she couldn't see the pleased look on his face. "S'alright I guess. Could be worse."

He should've seen the slap on the back coming.

* * *

><p><em>Later<em>

They were finally getting out of the traffic mess near the Strip and had both windows rolled down in the car.

A small wedding chapel passed them by on the driver's side.

"Wanna get married?" he quipped.

Gillian ignored the desert landscape for a moment and turned to him, stopping just short of rolling her eyes underneath her Ray-Bans.

He was looking good in his suit and tie and dark sunglasses, even if it didn't entirely mask the grittiness that was quintessential Cal Lightman. The rough exterior that she loved as much as she loved the gentle man beneath it.

"What would you do if I said yes?"

"Stop the car and turn around?"

Gillian shook her head and smirked. That was a good answer though. She had to give him that much. "You are so full of it."

He grinned when he turned sideways. "Is that a yes then?"

"Just drive, would you?"

Her phone beeped and she saw Emily Lightman's name come up on a text bubble.

-Hi Gillian. watcha doing? have u thought about having dinner with dad yet?

Gillian blushed.

_I did actually. Last night. We didn't eat much 'cause we couldn't wait to get into that king size bed in our Las Vegas suite. And now he just asked me to marry him. So, uhm, how are you doing, Em?_

-You don't beat around the bush do you?

-LOL. just bugging you. I'm coming 2 DC in less than a week. to spend x-mas with Dad. wan too!

-What does that translate to in English?

-ha. ha. ha

-I want to see you too , Em. Definitely.

-can i call u when I get there and maybe we can get 2gether for a coffee or a movie?

_Actually your father wants me to join him when he picks you up at the airport. You might see a lot more of me than you planned and truth is, it makes me nervous. Makes me hope that you really do want this too. _

-For sure.

-can't wait. found a perfect gift for u last week. u r going 2 love it.

_What I love is that you thought to get me a gift. _

-Seeing you, that's the best gift.

-that's what u think. wait until u see this.

"What are you smirking about?" Cal asked her. They were leaving the city now, out on an open desert highway underneath the blue skies and sunshine. "Are you texting your boyfriend?"

"Yes."

He made some snickering noise.

Gillian eyed him, surprised by what she saw. "You're seriously jealous? Unbelievable, Cal."

"You look like you love the guy," he grumbled. "I can read faces you know."

"You're supposed to keep your eyes on the road. Not on my face." Gillian texted Emily a good-bye after she wrote that she had to leave for a class. "And you're right, I do love the person I'm texting."

"It's your mother then, yeah?"

"No. Your daughter."

She caught the surprise on his face.

"Ah yeah? My daughter's texting you?"

"She does sometimes."

Cal looked as though he had to think about what that implied, before he realized he liked the idea. "I didn't know."

"She came to see me a few times after..." Gillian paused, still unsure what to call it. _The accident? That night? _

"I sent her to check on you," he admitted, tensing a little, as he did whenever they brought it up. "Had to do something and I figured you didn't wanna see me."

"I know you did the first time," Gillian told him. "But not the three times after that."

He turned towards her again. It made her nervous every time he took his eyes off the road like that.

_One more time and I'm driving. _

"Three times, really?"

"She's a sweetheart, Cal. She brought me food. Kept me company at a time when I really wasn't very good company."

Pride. That's what she was on his face now.

"My daughter loves you."

"And I love her." _Just like I love her father. _

Gillian's fingers toyed with the plastic rim of her take-out coffee cup as she stared out the open window into the desert.

_Then why can't you say it out loud? Why don't you tell him?_

She did know why, of course. Gillian Foster the psychologist knew the answer to her questions. Knew that her reasons for avoiding it weren't particularly honest. Or healthy. But sometimes it was easier to dispense her wisdom than follow it.

They didn't say much for the rest of the drive. Occasionally she'd feel Cal's right hand on her thigh. Either resting there or giving it a little squeeze. It always felt good. Like it belonged.

They turned off the highway onto a road that led straight into the empty desert. Gillian almost wanted to ask whether they made a wrong turn until she spotted the outline of a huge, lone house in the distance.

A billionaire who lived in a desert mansion away from the rest of the world.

_Paranoid much? _

A cloud of dust rose up into the air when Cal stepped on the brakes in front of the massive, gated drive-way.

He eyed her before his arm stretched for the button on the intercom.

"Ready to go back to doing what you do best, partner?"


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27 **

_Bellagio Hotel, Las Vegas _

Their suite was a mess.

Two lap-tops and a half dozen folders were lying on top of the king-size bed. As well as a bag of chips and Cal's suit jacket.

Gillian was sitting on the cluttered bed too, watching the video tape on the TV from there.

Installing a video hadn't been possible on the TV they already had in the room so they had to get a second one brought up for them. The hotel was charging an absurd amount for it but Cal didn't care. Roman Prescott, their billionaire client, was footing the bill.

She was absent-mindedly chewing on a liquorice stick, focusing on what Roman Prescott's younger daughter was saying on the tape, barely noticing that Cal's lips had made their way onto her neck.

Gillian turned sideways a little to give him better access, disappointed when he stopped and sat down next to her.

Part of her wanted to toss the folders off the bed and start undressing him. Right then and there. The scent of him was entering her nostrils and it was making it harder to ignore all the things was feeling.

_Focus, Gillian. Focus. _

"So you agree then?" he asked, pointing to the TV screen. "Zero deception from either daughter."

Gillian nodded. "I agree."

"So we'll remind him he's a paranoid freak and call it a day. Case closed. Maybe you can tell him a nicer way, yeah?"

She could, but something didn't sit quite right with her.

Gillian took another bite of her candy and rewound the tape a few minutes, until she found the spot she was looking for and pressed play. She offered Cal some liquorice but he cringed and turned her down.

"Tell me what you see there?"

Cal focused. He could see it while Gillian heard it. "Guilt."

"Why the guilt if she's not lying?"

"Good question." He focused harder now, taking the remote from her hand and she could almost see the wheels in his brilliant mind turning. "Did you see that?" he asked when he paused the video a second time.

This time she had to make an effort to spot what Cal saw instantly. "Fear."

"So she's absolutely honest when she tells us she wants only the best for Daddy. Wants him to keep all his money. Yet there's fear and guilt on her face. Explain that one to me?"

"What if someone else is milking Daddy? It's not her but she knows who it is?" Gillian suggested.

Cal rubbed his chin before turning around to grab one of the folders. "I say tomorrow we spend some time interviewing Samantha's hubby."

"Good idea."

"See...this why I need you around." He was lying on the bed now, on his back, legs dangling over its side, his dress shirt inching out of his pants.

"Hope that's not the only reason." Gillian's fingers found her way into the gap, fiddling with the edge of his belt. "Room service again tonight?"

His fingers coiled around her wrist and he pulled her down next to him.

Gillian turned sideways and draped her arm over his chest, snuggling into him as she opened a button on his shirt until her fingers made their way onto the warm skin below.

He turned to her with a smug Cal Lightman grin. "Can't keep your hands off me, can you?"

There was no point arguing. _That _was the truth.

"No room service tonight," he protested. "It's Vegas and we've got an unlimited expense account in one of the best hotels on the Strip. I wanna go out, try out one of the fancy restaurants in this joint, play some roulette and show off my girl to the rest of the world."

Gillian groaned. What she wanted was to make love to him.

Pushing herself up and straddling him, Gillian grabbed his wrists this time, pressing them both down on the bed.

"Don't hurt me."

Lowering her head to kiss him, Gillian felt his arousal, as her body inched closer to his. It made her happy. How_ much_ he wanted her. Made her feel better about selfishly being unable to get enough of him.

_It's your fault that you're so damn good at this. _

She caught him sometimes, when they made love. Studying her face and her reactions. Because of it he already knew her so intimately. Knew exactly what she liked and what she didn't without a single word.

Like the way his hands had wedged out from under her grip and started undressing her now. For someone as impatient as Cal Lightman he did it with surprising deliberation, as if savouring every inch that he was uncovering. It made her feel like he was unwrapping the most exquisite gift in the world.

"You taste like liquorice," he told her after slowly extracting his lips from hers. "Gonna make me crave that disgusting candy now."

Gillian giggled. "I'll buy a bigger pack next time."

In one swift move he lifted her up a little and turned her over, so that now he was on top of her, pressing her wrists against the bed. "I wanna go out for dinner..." he repeated, lowering himself to kiss her neck, his lips only just grazing her skin as they trailed downwards and inched towards her breasts. Gillian's pulse quickened and goose bumps lined up along her arms.

"Okay..." she agreed.

Not that there was much she wouldn't have agreed to right then.

Or that she had any doubts they were about to work up an appetite.

* * *

><p><em>Lightman Group<em>

_Washington DC_

"Lightman sent us the daily report from the Vegas case," Loker shouted out from the lab.

Ria Torres had too much to do to care about that. Unless it mentioned her name and called for some sort of follow up, she wasn't interested. She knew that Lightman only took that case because of the absurd amount of money the guy was willing to pay them.

Nothing about the Vegas case was supposed to be complicated. Or involve her in any way.

"Did you have a look at it?" He yelled from the lab.

No. She hadn't looked at it. Hadn't planned to unless Lightman called but he'd been surprisingly quiet since leaving for Vegas. Not so much as a phone call or an e-mail aside from the daily case reviews.

"Take a look at it!"

_Oh for chrissakes, Eli. _

"Did you look at it?" he asked again, and this time his voice was much clearer because he was in her view, standing across from her desk.

"What is your problem?" Ria asked him, thoroughly annoyed now.

"Look at it," he repeated and Ria opened the e-mail.

"Is Lightman dying? Is the case falling apart?" Torres was certain that wasn't the case. If it was she'd have gotten half a dozen texts and phone calls. Lightman wouldn't casually have mentioned something major on a daily review e-mail.

Ria read it and just as she suspected, everything was fine. Moving along exactly as it was supposed to.

"Is there something I'm missing?" Ria asked him. "What was so damn important that I had to read that right now? Can you not see that I'm in the middle of..."

"Are you blind?" he cut her off, running a hand through his thick wavy hair. "Look at the e-mail. Not the contents. Do you think Lightman wrote that?"

Ria had another look at it and now that he mentioned it, she finally got what he was getting at. The whole thing was a world of difference from the disorganized point-form bullet sentences she'd been used to seeing the last few months. This was neat and concise and thorough. It was the kind of daily case reports they used to get, back when Foster still wrote them.

"Foster's out there with him," Torres acknowledged, getting it now. "And writing his case reports for him."

"She's working a case with Lightman and he hasn't bothered to tell us!" Eli added. "You don't see a problem with this?"

Ria shrugged. "Who's to say she's working a case out there? It's the weekend...they're in a new relationship." She paused a moment. Truth was they didn't really know how new it was but if she made an effort to remember when exactly Lightman's mood changed, she could probably bet money on an exact date. "Normal people don't spend Saturday nights at the office like me and you. She's off and he wanted her to come along. That's all."

Was it really that hard to put that together?

"Then why is she writing his reports?"

_"Because she loves him?" _

Ria stared at him. For someone so smart, he could be so dense sometimes.

Loker was getting it now. It was dawning on his face when he sat down across from her. "Why don't they tell us?"

"Why should they? It's none of our business who Lightman sleeps with."

"It is if that person is working on cases for the Lightman Group!"

"She's not." Ria told him, although she wasn't sure. "Even if she is, who cares? It's Foster. She owns half the place. If she wants to go work on a case, let her go work on a case." Ria was pretty sure there were no legal or confidential issues they had to deal with if she did.

"Doesn't it bug that they always leave us in the dark?"

Ria smirked. That was the real issue here. Loker was pissed about feeling left out. Again.

"If it makes you feel better I had no idea either."

"That doesn't bother you?"

"Sometimes," she admitted. There were a lot of things about Lightman that got on her nerves. He was bull-headed and stubborn on a good day and grumpy, messy, obstinate and downright inappropriate on a bad day. But he was also kind and brilliant and fiercely loyal. Cal Lightman and Gillian Foster would be the first to stand up for her if someone tried to brow-beat her during a case.

And if it wasn't for Foster and Lightman she'd probably still be screening luggage at an airport. Instead, Ria Torres had spent the last few years getting the education of a lifetime while being paid handsomely for it and now Lightman was literally trusting her to run their multi-million dollar company. Never mind that her sister's boarding school was being paid for by the Lightman Group too. Both Torres sisters were going places thanks to her two employers.

No matter how much they might annoy her on some days, Ria wouldn't ever forget that. Lightman and Foster weren't just her bosses, they were two people she'd grown to care deeply about. If they wanted to keep her in the dark about a few things, she could live with that.

Unlike Eli Loker.

"I guess she really has forgiven him for slicing her arm open."

Ria looked at him incredulously. "It was an accident, wasn't it?" To this day she still didn't know exactly what happened that night in Lightman's office. The topic was off-limits with both Lightman and Foster. Not that she'd seen much of Foster since then.

Not that she needed to have been there. Lightman might be rough around the edges, but Ria would bet her life on the fact that he'd never hurt Foster. Not like that.

The guilt and regret she'd seen on his face for weeks afterwards were plenty of proof.

"I guess," Loker acknowledged. "But you weren't there that night. You didn't see all that blood everywhere. Or the way Foster looked at Lightman like she wanted to kill him."

Ria shrugged. "If they can get over it, it's none of our business."

"I think we should ask Lightman what's going on when he gets back."

Ria closed her lap-top. "I think...that is one of your worst ideas ever."

"But if we..."

"Let's leave this office," she suggested. "It's almost nine o'clock on Saturday night. Bet out bosses in Vegas aren't working. Why the hell are we?"

Loker grinned and the smile lit up his whole face. He was oddly adorable once he stopped fretting about the Lightman Group. "Wanna go for a drink?"

The last time they'd gone out for a drink, she'd ended up in his bedroom. Because the more she drank the harder it was for her to keep her hands off him.

Then again, they were both single and as much as he drove her nuts, like Lightman, Eli Loker was a good guy at heart.

Ria Torres smiled back at him, suddenly ridiculously excited at the prospect. "Yeah, let's."

* * *

><p><em>Bellagio Hotel, Las Vegas<em>

_Later _

Most of the folders were lying on the floor now. As well as one of the laptops. It crashed on the floor with a thud when one of Cal's legs had accidentally given it a push.

Gillian groaned when she realized it was hers.

They never made it underneath the covers and now they were too hot to give it a thought. One of Cal's legs was intertwined with hers while one of his hands rested on her stomach, his fingers tracing soft, lazy circles on her skin. He could never be still very long. Some part of him was always in motion.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Mmmm...yeah."

"I mean..."

His gaze darted to the scratches on her skin and then she knew what he was talking about. The fact that both of them went a few steps further than they thought they would.

In fairness, there were a lot more scratches on his skin than hers. And just thinking back to it sent an electric warmth coursing through her entire body again.

_Had I known it was going to be this intense... _

"That was okay too," she told him.

He scrunched his lips a little. Like he sometimes did when he was bothered by something. "If it wasn't you'd have said something, right, luv?"

Gillian turned sideways and narrowed her brows. Her hand reached over and cupped his chin, forcing him to look at her. "Yeah...I would've and I know you'd have stopped the second I did."

He nodded a little, as if he didn't really believe it.

"Cal..."

"Don't wanna hurt you," he explained. "Ever again."

"Cal?"

He was the one who was hurting and Gillian didn't understand why.

"Sometimes I look back on the way my old man treated my mum and I wonder if I've got something of him in me. If I'm capable of..."

"No." Gillian cut him off. "You're not." Her thumb ran along his jaw line. "The reason I can do...the things we do, is because I trust you. Completely. Always have...even when I was angry with you."

"That night..." he started. "I was so angry, Gill. Couldn't control it. Made me think I was more like him than I wanna admit."

Gillian winced, keeping her eyes on his. "Are you waiting for me to agree with you?"

"Maybe you should."

"I won't. Because you're wrong."

Cal shrugged and offered her a lop-sided smile. "Part of me is waiting for the shrink in you to ask me how I feel."

"Good luck to anyone trying to be your shrink. Last thing I'd ever do is try and get into your head."

Cal chuckled. "Liar."

"So how _do _you feel?"

"I'm starving."

"See...this is exactly why I'd never ask you how you feel."

"You just did."

Gillian tossed a pillow over his head. "You're impossible."

He tossed it back off and propped himself up on one elbow, his face suddenly serious again.

It was maddening sometimes how he could go from one to the other so quickly. Funny to serious, infuriating to irresistible. But she loved him for it. For every single facet that made him who he was. No matter how well she knew him, part of Cal Lightman would always be an enigma and she liked that because trying to figure him out was half the fun. Just like trying to figure out what half his tattoos meant without asking. She'd discovered some new ones too that she had no idea he had until recently.

His face was leaning over hers now and Gillian had the sudden urge to pull him closer still. To feel the roughness of his two-day stubble against her skin again.

"If done a lot of shit in my life that I shouldn't have," he admitted out of the blue. His hazel-grey eyes were so focused on her, it was hard not to be mesmerized by them. "But truth is, I don't regret any of it. Never did."

"Good," she said softly. Regret was such a waste.

"Except for that night in my office...you have no idea how much I regret that."

Hands reaching up, Gillian's fingers trailed through his hair.

_I want to tell you to stop...stop beating yourself up over this, because I love you too much to see you do this..._

But she knew that saying it was pointless, that saying it wouldn't make him stop.

"Do you ever wonder, if...it hadn't happened? If we'd be here now? Like this?" she asked him.

Cal didn't say anything.

"I do. I wonder if maybe we would've kept fighting over every stupid little thing...that we'd have let the company finances get to us so much that we'd have drifted apart." Gillian paused. "Maybe we needed a wake-up call before we could get here."

"Not like that." He disagreed.

"You make me happy, Cal. _Really_ happy. I don't want to imagine not having this anymore."

"Yeah?"

His eyes questioned her even as he could see the truth. Gillian made sure he could.

"Yeah."

"Alright," he exhaled. Relaxed and smiled a little. "Gonna keep doing it then. Making you happy."

Gillian smiled too, relieved that she'd somehow found the right words. "I'll hold you to it."

"Come on," he held out his hand.

Gillian narrowed her brows.

"Shower," he explained. "Then dinner."

She closed her eyes dreading to have to make the effort to go out. Especially when going out meant smoke-filled casinos and over-priced hotel restaurants. "You sure I can't talk you into room service?"

Cal had already grabbed a hold of her and pulled her up, out of the bed. "Not a chance."

Gillian frowned. "Really?"

"Hot shower first. I'll even scrub your back."

* * *

><p><em>Le Cirque Restaurant <em>

_Later _

Cal was itching to hit a casino. A poker game first, to get some funds. Then roulette. That's what he loved the most. The crazy, unpredictable thrill of roulette.

Gillian convinced him to have dinner first. Not that it needed much arm-twisting. He really was starving and the Kobe beef tenderloin that he was digging into was fabulous. Although the Dover sole on Gillian plate looked pretty damn good too.

And, now that he took another long look, so did she. The way she tied her hair back accentuated the plunging neckline on her dress. It almost made him overlook the long sleeves.

Cal flip-flopped between pride and jealousy every time he caught another man checking her out. How dare they? But how could they not?

It was maddening and he had to make an effort to curb his reactions. He'd always been irrationally jealous where Gillian Foster was concerned but it was even worse now. Now that she really was his.

He reached over to her plate. "Mind if I try?"

Gillian beat him to it, scooping up a bite with her fork and feeding it to him. "It's fantastic." She made a little noise that reminded him of one she'd made earlier in the bedroom.

"That good, huh?" he mumbled between bites, although now that it was in his mouth he had to admit that maybe it was. It was hard to compete with a Michelin-star rated chef from France.

She gave him one of her radiant smiles. "Oh yes. That good."

She really was happy. Glowing. Gillian hadn't said it only to assuage his guilt.

They inhaled their meals and it felt like only minutes later that the waiter came by to bring them dessert menus.

Gillian inched her chair a little closer to his. The tables were too big for two. "Did you see they have something called a Sugar Sphere?"

Cal made a face. It sounded disgusting. A ball of sugar. "Tell me you're not having that."

"I'm thinking about it."

Of course she was.

A young couple sat down next to them, examining their wedding rings. Cal observed them only for a few seconds, the glee and the excitement and the awe on their faces. Newlyweds, he decided. They couldn't have been older than twenty.

He caught Gillian watching them too. Just for a moment before turning back to him. "And then there's a Chocolate Ball."

Another couple passed by their table and Cal saw the husband's wandering eyes trailing down Gillian's cleavage. Cal shot him a dirty look.

"What was that?" Gillian called him out on it.

"Cheeky bastard...leering at you while he's got his wife on his arm."

"Who cares?"

"Me. I care." He sighed. "You sure you don't wanna get hitched?"

Gillian's attention was still on the dessert menu, even though she raised one if her brows a little. "Because you think if I have a ring on my finger he won't look?"

"Need the world to know you're mine." Cal pursed his lips. His possessiveness when it came to her would likely never change. Would probably only get worse. "Can't help it."

"I could just tattoo your name on my forehead."

"Could you?"

Gillian rolled her eyes. "You know, if you ever do propose I won't take you seriously anymore if you keep this up. It's kind of like the boy who cried wolf."

"What makes you think I'm not serious?"

Gillian put down her menu and didn't say anything. The silence hung in the air and all of a sudden all the other background noises amplified, so much so that Cal thought he could make out conversations from other tables, even as his attention was focused only on her.

There was a lot to see on her face now and some of it took him by surprise.

Disbelief. Anger. Sadness.

"It's madness, Cal," she told him. It was little more than a whisper.

"_Is_ it madness?" He prodded. He wasn't ready to let this go. Not after what he'd seen on her face. "So what if we've only been having sex for a few weeks...and it's bloody fantastic sex, Gill, if I might add.."

"Cal?" Her cheeks blushed and he loved her for it. "We're in a restaurant? _Do you mind_?"

"We've been partners for years! I liked you long before I loved you, and I loved you long before I finally had the guts to tell you. All those annoying things that couples only find out once they really get to know each other...you and me, we're already there!"

"Annoying things like _what_?"

"Do you know how irritating it is when you correct my text messages? Or the way you hog the duvet, _every_ night? Or when you bring that godawful food into the office that stinks up the whole place..."

She pointed her fork at him. "And yet you still want me to come back to the Group? You're such a martyr."

He leaned in towards her. "I'm sayin' that I know you. Good and bad and all and nothing else I find out is gonna make me love you any less."

She narrowed her eyes, aiming for irritated and not quite succeeding.

"Of all the mad, irrational things I've done...wanting to marry you isn't one of them."

"Cal, I haven't even..."

She stopped herself in mid-sentence, regretting her words instantly.

"You haven't what? Told me that you love me?"

Guilt. That's what he saw on her face now and it's not what he wanted her to feel.

"S'alright, luv. Whenever you're ready. No rush."

She averted his gaze now, as she always did when things made her uncomfortable.

"Gill...?"

"You say it so easily."

"I like saying it. 'Cause I mean it and I want you to hear it."

"It's not that..."

"That you don't love me too," he finished for her. "I know. Both of us know that I can see it."

Gillian bit her lip, not sure what to say. Maybe that was a little too much honesty for her.

"It was different with Zoe," Cal explained. "She'd say it and I didn't always see it but I look at you and see it. It's always there. Well...except that time I brought you chocolates and you pushed me into a wall."

He saw now too. In the way she looked at him with a defeated half-smile.

"Guess I might as well say it then."

"Nah..." he shrugged his shoulders and scrunched up his fancy cloth napkin. "No rush. But I am curious why I see contempt when we talk about love and marriage...it's a helluva change from the Gillian Foster I used to know. The one who reads romance novels and wanted to jump into wedding cakes fully clothed."

Her eyes turned away from him again. Everything was touching a nerve now. But that was the thing with the truth. It peeled off layers you wanted to keep on for your own protection.

"It's not contempt..." she said softly.

"Yeah it is."

"You have no idea, Cal. You don't know..."

"Don't know what?"

"What I went through with Alec...how many times he went through rehab. How hard I tried..." She stopped mid-sentence again, pushing her dessert menu away. She wouldn't order anything now. Her appetite gone.

It was true, Cal realized. He'd never known the full extent of Alec's drug addiction. Because Gillian kept it from him throughout their friendship. Cal was certain it wasn't because she didn't trust him or want to confide in him, but because Alec would have asked her to.

What he did know was how deeply unhappy she was in the last year of her marriage and it when it finally ended, it was as though a giant weight had fallen off her shoulders.

"In the end none of it mattered. The vows, the ring...the cocaine always trumped them all."

Cal wans't sure what to say. He'd tried cocaine, more than once, in his grad student days and it was an amazing high. Made him feel like he could write a fifty-page research study in a day and still have enough energy for a night at the pub.

_But it's nothing compared to the high I get when I've got you in my arms. Not even close._

"Then Burns came along a year later and I fell hard and fast. I loved him, Cal."

Cal swallowed. It wasn't really what he wanted to hear.

"And I told him...all the time. I thought maybe love was enough. But the minute he had to chose between us and the job he loved...he left."

_Neither of them deserved you. _

It was an overused cliche. But it was the truth. Even if selfishly Cal was grateful to both of them. Because if they'd been better men he wouldn't be sitting here across from her now.

_You both lost and I won, and you don't even know what you lost. _

"So you've been burned and now you've sworn off love and marriage? Still doesn't sound like the Foster I know."

She smiled. "It's not that. But vows and rings and words, they don't mean as much as I used to think. The things that mean something are the things you do." This time her striking blue eyes did meet his and love was the only thing he saw in them. "Like you walking Moritz at six in the morning when I can't get out of bed. Or thinking of fastening my seat belt on the plane before we land. The way you make love to me...those things mean something."

Cal scrunched his lips. He knew her so well, but she still had the uncanny ability to surprise him sometimes.

"Look...I can't promise you that you and me, it's gonna be forever. But I promise you that when I tell you I love you that it means something. That if have to make a choice...you're not gonna be on the losing end. Not a bloody chance."

She didn't believe him. Not yet. But that was okay. He figured he had a lifetime to convince her.

A waiter came by to hand them their bill and Cal signed it to their room after adding on a generous tip. _You can thank the paranoid billionaire recluse. _

Gillian finished her wine and set down the crystal glass. "Casino?"

He really did want to go. But Cal knew she hated it. Was doing it as a compromise for him and considering what they just talked about, dragging her to a roulette table seemed like a lousy idea right now.

Reaching across the table Cal took a hold of her hand, pulling her up from the chair. "Change of plans."

"Change of plans?"

"Let's go for a ride."

"A ride?"

"Something I wanna show you."

"What?"

"You'll see."

"Tell me."

He sauntered into the palatial lobby and asked the valet to bring up their rental car, glad that he had only one glass of wine for dinner.

"You'll see." Arm snaked around her waist, he led her back to the elevators.

They would need to change into something more casual for what he had in mind.


	28. Chapter 28

I know, right? Longest hiatus EVER. Sincere apologies for that. As a reader I know how annoying it is to have an author drop a story in the middle like that. So yeah, I get it. But sometimes life just doesn't go entirely according to plan. And in some ways, it still isn't. That said, I thought maybe if I start posting again, it'll be just the motivation I need. Crossing fingers!

Although this has been an angsty fic, rest assured this chapter isn't. It's pure fluff because these characters were overdue for a little happiness.

Let me wait a couple of chapters before I start killing them off again. (**Kidding!** Ok, mostly kidding)

For those that need a recap (heck, _I_ needed a recap):

Cal and Gillian are a happy couple now (finally) and they are working a weekend case together in Vegas. Cal is ready to talk about marriage but this makes Gillian uncomfortable, who confesses some things about her former marriage to him that she'd never mentioned before. She may be happy in their relationship she's not ready to talk about that kind of commitment. She's not even ready to say I love you yet (or so we think...)

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to Callian, both Loker and Torres are aware of their bosses' new relationship, thanks to the hidden cameras in the Lightman Group and the two of them are having a little fling of their own.

Gillian is still working at the prison, while her Brazillian colleague Alex just got hired at the Lightman Group.

Hunter Kline, the psychopath that Wallowski tried to nail for child pornography, and who was starting to cast a shadow over Callian, was just released from prison, in spite of Gillian's recommendation that he stay there to serve out his full sentence. I have feeling we haven't seen the last of him yet.

Emily is still studying out west at Berkeley but will be home shortly for Christmas. She doesn't know that Cal and Gillian have forgiven each other for everything that happened and that they are together now.

In chapter 27, Cal and Gillian had a bit of an argument over dinner in Vegas, so Cal decides to forego a night of gambling and instead let Gillian in on a little secret hideaway. This brings us to chapter 28.

(ps: Huge thanks to my friend, GDA, for being my proof-reader and sounding board once again)

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 28<strong>

_Mojave Desert, Nevada _

"Cal..."

"Yeah?"

After nearly two hours of driving he brought the car to a halt and Gillian could see absolutely nothing. Nothing but darkness blanketing everything. "Where are we?"

"Nowhere, Nevada."

Gillian trusted Cal. With her life if need be. But still. This scared her a little. Being in the middle of the desert in the middle of the night, covered in darkness and silence. She was a city girl, after all, accustomed to a world of lights and noise and people.

But they left the highway nearly half an hour ago and there was none of that here. As soon as they took a bumpy side road into the desert, the only lights Gillian could see were those of their own headlights and the stars above.

Cal took out a flashlight from the glove compartment and turned it on, one foot already outside in the cold desert air while she was still contemplating whether or not to undo her seatbelt.

He walked around the hood, trailing the beam from his flashlight and opened the door on the passenger's side. Making the decision for her.

"Come on," he said, holding out his hand. "We're here."

"We're in the middle of nowhere, Cal!" she protested. "What is this? What are we doing here?" Gillian unbuckled herself, got out and felt something brush against the leg of her jeans. She hoped it was a bush. Or tumbleweed. Or anything that wasn't alive.

She zipped up her jacket as soon as the cold air hit her lungs. They'd gone from summer to winter in the span of a few hours.

Cal aimed his flashlight into the darkness and suddenly Gillian could see the outline of a trailer. And then two more. "We're not the only ones out here," he pointed out.

"You brought me to a trailer park in the middle of the Mojave desert? How romantic."

In response to the noise they were making, a light came on in one of the trailers, making Gillian's heart pound. It was a justifiable reaction, because seconds later the door of the trailer opened, a man carrying a shotgun stepped out of it.

She grabbed Cal's arm. They were going to die out here. In a trailer park in the middle of the desert. Of all of Cal's insane ideas, this one was going to top them all.

"Whoa...whoa...easy there," Cal raised his arm. "It's me. Lightman."

Gillian held on to him so tight her fingers cramped. "You..._know_ him?"

The man lowered his shotgun. "Lightman? What the hell kind of trouble are you in now?"

"No trouble. Just taking my girl out for a night on the town."

"Bullshit, Lightman. Don't believe it for one second."

Gillian's terror faded. The man standing across from them was old and bent over. She noticed that one of his front teeth was missing when the light from Cal's flashlight struck his face.

"You know, Coop, you barely know me. You could have a little more faith, yeah?"

"Only time you come out here is when the cops are chasin' ya."

"Hey..." Cal started to protest, but the old man had already turned around, uninterested now that he knew they were no threat. He was already making his way back into his trailer. "I didn't see anything. You were never here."

Cal turned to her. "Don't mind old Cooper here. He's a miser who's out here 'cause he hates people."

He pointed the flashlight towards a different trailer and grabbed Gillian's hand as he led her towards it, bending down just outside the door to lift up one of the garden gnomes standing next to it. Cal revealed a key underneath and used it to open the trailer door, holding it open and gesturing for her to go inside.

"How do you know that guy? And what _is_ this place? You own a trailer in the middle of the Mojave dessert?"

"You cold?" he asked when they were both inside and he saw her rubbing her hands together.

"Yes. And you're deflecting."

Cal lit a kerosene lamp, lighting up the space around them. It wasn't what Gillian was expecting. The trailer was small and cozy but neat and clean with surprisingly modern furnishings.

"This thing's not mine," Cal explained. "Belongs to an old mate of mine, Phil. He's a psych prof at UCLA. We met a long time ago."

Gillian furrowed her brows, not quite understanding how that brought them out here. "How does that translate into him having a trailer out here in the desert and you having a key for it?"

"Few years before I started working at the Pentagon, I was out here in Vegas, got into a bit of trouble with some casino owners..."

"You were fleecing the casinos."

"Is that what I said?" He shifted his weight a little. "Anyway..., I called Phil 'cause I needed a favour and he told me about this place. Told me I could stay here for a while to lay low."

Gillian rolled her eyes. "You're unbelievable."

"And...to answer your second question, Phil owns this thing 'cause his primary research focus is psychedelic therapy. He likes to think he's continuing the good work of Timothy Leary."

"Ah..." Now it was starting to make sense to her.

"Told me he's done some of his best research right here. In the middle of the desert."

"With himself as the guinea pig?"

Cal grinned. "How'd you guess?"

It was her weakness, that irresistible smile of his. It did something crazy to her brain chemistry that she was certain no psychedelic drug could replicate. Made her forget everything except how good it made her feel. And how urgently it made her want to invade his space and taste his lips on hers.

Cal was leaning against a counter in the kitchenette and she did just that. Move closer into his space. "So, uhm...does he leave any of his research tools lying around?"

"Are you suggesting illicit drug use?" Cal used their intimacy as an opportunity to grab her jacket and pull her closer still, until her body was pressed against his. "My good girl partner?"

She was the one smiling now. "All I did was ask a question."

He leaned in for a kiss. "Liar."

Warming her hands by digging underneath his shirt, Gillian pressed them against his back, inching them into the back of his pants. The feel of his flesh against her fingertips made her want him again.

But Cal hoisted himself onto the counter, wrapping his legs around her waist, freeing up his hands to cup her face.

"You smell nice."

_You feel nice. _

His lips moved lower and he kissed that spot on her neck. The one that he knew would make her lean her head back a little and elicit that sound, that involuntary groan of pleasure. Holding on tight, he let her bury her face in the gap between his shoulder and jaw.

It was something she stopping doing in the last couple of years of her marriage to Alec. Holding on to him for no other reason than because she wanted to.

"Warmer now?" Cal whispered. Not that he needed to ask. Because he could see the answer with one look into her face.

_Yes. Hot, actually. _

She took off her jacket after he slowly disentangled himself from her and hopped off the counter.

"Good," he said. "'Cause we're going back out."

Gillian didn't groan with pleasure this time. "Really?"

The kerosene lamp bathed the inside of the trailer in a soft yellow light. Made her want to put on a jazz CD, light a couple of candles and continue where they left off just now. Going back outside into the cold, dark desert was the last thing she craved.

Cal poured some water into a kettle and turned on a small gas stove. "Gonna make us some tea."

"Coffee?"

"Tea's gonna have to do. Phil's an Englishman. Good taste in caffeinated beverages and all."

"Just put lots of milk and sugar in it then."

Cal lifted up a container of powdered milk and showed it to her. "Careful what you ask for."

Gillian wrinkled her nose. "Great."

This time she was the one who leaned against the counter and eyed her surroundings. There was a living room-like seating area on one side of her, complete with a small sofa and TV & DVD player. On the other side was an open closet-sized door leading to the toilet and shower and behind that, filling in the very rear of the trailer was a double bed that could comfortably fit two.

Gillian walked over to the sofa and sat down, watching Cal brew the tea while opening various drawers in search for something.

"Aha," he exclaimed when he found what he was looking for; two thick wool blankets.

"Oh no, no, no..." She eyed them with trepidation. "I am not sleeping outside with the rattlesnakes and scorpions," she told him. "No way." Not when there was a perfectly good bed right here.

"No rattlesnakes where we're headed," he told her.

"Tell me where we're going! It's late, Cal. Where can we possibly go at this time out here?"

Cal pointed to the ceiling of the trailer and Gillian spotted the outline of what looked like a ceiling hatch. A door of sorts.

"You want to go on to the roof of the trailer?"

"That's right."

"Why?"

"You'll see." Cal pushed a chair against the counter and hopped up onto both. "Phil's 6'2," he told her. "All he needs is the chair."

He opened a latch and pressed his palms against the rooftop door, pushing it open, letting in the cold winter air. Then he cautiously hoisted himself up onto the roof.

"Toss me the blankets," Cal called to her. His upper body was all she could see, hovering over the opening in the ceiling.

She did as he asked.

"Now the thermos, with the tea."

Gillian handed it to him and he barely grabbed hold of the top of it. After he tucked it away somewhere, his head poked back through the opening again.

"Your turn."

Gillian gave him a sceptical look. She wasn't quite as nimble, or as strong, as he was.

"Stand on the chair first, then push off from the counter...I'll pull you up the rest of the way as soon as I get hold of your arms."

She did as he instructed, not entirely convinced that he was strong enough for the amount of hoisting it would take to get her up there. But she was wrong. Once he had a firm grip on her arms, he pulled, grabbing her waist the first chance he got and hoisted her all the way up.

"Damn..." he groaned, after she let go. "Good thing you didn't have dessert at the hotel."

She slapped his chest. "Jerk."

He grinned while one of his hands rested on her butt. "S'alright. I love all of you. Every pound."

"Not helping," she mumbled.

"Go on, get comfortable." He gestured to the large, mattress-like cushions that were spread out everywhere.

Gillian noticed a low wooden railing that went all-around the roof, against which Cal had set the flashlight and the thermos.

Cal caught her eyeing it. "In case Phil falls asleep up here," he explained. "So he doesn't fall off."

"Or in case he's high as a kite while experimenting up here?"

"Then there's that."

"What_ does_ he do up here?" she asked him.

"Stop trying to figure things out for a moment," Cal chided her, pulling her down onto the cushions.

"Can't help it..." Part of her was still didn't understand what they were doing here to begin with.

"Close your eyes for a sec," he told her.

"Cal..." Gillian started to protest.

"Just do it."

She was lying on her back now, eyes reluctantly closed.

"Now you can open them," he instructed, only seconds later.

"Oh my god..."

He'd turned off the flashlight, plunging them back into darkness. Letting her see, _really see_, the night sky above them for the first time tonight. Gillian's jaw dropped at the sight, at the thousands of stars above them, far as the eye could see, glistening like diamonds against an endless black canvas.

"It's a beauty, isn't it?"

Beautiful couldn't begin to describe it.

It was incredible. Granted, she'd seen night skies before, even in isolated camp grounds, but never like this. Never before had she seen stars so clear and bright. And there were so impossibly many of them.

"You have to get far away from artificial light to see them like this," Cal explained. "Not that many places near DC where you can do that."

Gillian was mesmerized. Couldn't stop staring. Understanding it now. Why he brought her here.

"Had the same reaction as you when I came up here for the first time," Cal confessed. "These last few weeks, seeing the way you look at me...felt a bit like that first time here. You and me, it overwhelms me sometimes, like this place. It takes my breath away. _You_ take my breath away."

Gillian's hand found his in the darkness, snaking her fingers through his. She swallowed, speechless.

"Didn't think I'd ever bring anyone here."

"I'm glad you did," she whispered. Taking her eyes off the stars above her, Gillian turned sideways to face him, wishing he could see her face better in the darkness, _wanting_ him to read her and to know how much this meant to her.

But he didn't. Cal kept staring up into the sky while holding on to her, his thumb stroking her palm of her hand. Gillian caught a smile in the corner of his lips when she inched still closer to him.

They stayed there until three in the morning. Until their thermos was empty and their limbs were frozen.

By the time they inched back downstairs, they were exhausted and threw off all their clothes. Burrowing underneath the warmth of the heavy down duvet on the bed and shivering as they spooned each other.

"Cal?"

"Yeah?"

"I want to come back here."

"Alright."

"Promise?"

"Yeah. Promise."

What she really wanted was to stay here. For days. Weeks maybe. Just like this. In his arms, underneath the stars, in the middle of nowhere. She wouldn't miss anything from her life in DC, except maybe Moritz and her Italian espresso machine.

Not that it was possible. Not in the middle of their case.

But she could dream.

* * *

><p><em>Next morning <em>

"Come on, darlin'. Sun's out. I'm up."

"Up?" she mumbled.

Gillian felt Cal's hands squeezing her thigh when she opened her eyes and squinted in the light. It was too bright, the desert morning sun. She turned around and buried her face back in the pillow.

"Oh no you don't..." Cal started pulling the duvet off her.

"Didn't we just fall asleep?"

"Three hours ago. But we've got an appointment with Prescott's son-in-law at nine. If we leave now that'll give us enough time for a greasy breakfast along the highway and a shower back at the hotel."

"I forgot all about Roman Prescott," she admitted with a yawn.

"I can't forget about him," he told her. "It's a big pay cheque for the Group."

Gillian slowly inched out of bed, noticing that he made no attempt not to stare at her naked body. Noticing the tiny smile of approval raising the corners of his lips. "Since when are you so organized?"

"Since you left the Group."

Gillian cringed.

"Not meant as dig, luv. It's the truth. Probably a good thing." He bit his lip. "The me getting organized part, not the you leaving part."

"How is the Group doing anyway?" she asked him, still sitting on the bed. "Financially."

He kept looking at her and sometimes she caught the guilt in his eyes when they rested on the scar on her arm. Cal was taking so much longer to heal from the wounds of that night than she did, but at least he could look at it now and Gillian took that for what it was; progress.

"I'm supposed to talk finances while you're sitting there like that?"

Gillian got up, grabbed the tank top she'd tossed to the floor last night and put it on, along with the underwear and jeans that were lying there too. "Better?"

"Not really."

"Cal?"

"What do you want me to tell you?"

Gillian winced. She'd touched a nerve. Could hear it in his voice. He always got defensive when it came to the Lightman Group. It was his baby, after all. Even in those moments when he acknowledged that it was their company, Gillian knew that in his heart of hearts, he didn't really believe it. What he did believe was that he was the only one responsible for its successes and failures.

"How about the truth?"

Cal shrugged his shoulders. "We're hanging on. Numbers aren't great but I think we stand a chance if we can survive the next few months. The deal I made with the DC Police is hurting us 'cause it takes up so much of my bloody time and it's not bringing in any revenue. But if I hadn't made it and they'd gone ahead with the lawsuit and that would've shut us down for good. You know all that."

"How about the Rotblatt contract?"

"It's keeping us afloat," he told her. "But it's petty. Hate it. It's us screening cheating spouses and corrupt bankers so her law firm can win cases. Exactly what I swore we never do. Worst of all, Leslie insists I handle most of her cases personally. Which is why I end up doing cases like these on weekends. I wanna tell Leslie to go and..." Cal smirked a little. "You can imagine what I wanna tell her. But not yet. Not 'til my contract with the DC Police is over."

"Having Alex on your team will be good," Gillian pointed out once she started thinking about the logistics. "It'll free up Torres so she can take on new cases on her own. I know she's up for it."

"Yeah..." he nodded in agreement. "You're right."

"It's good. Step in the right direction."

He looked at her and Gillian knew he had to make an effort not to go there. To stop pushing when it came to her coming back. Not that she thought the Group could afford to have her come back now anyway.

She stepped towards him and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him as close.

"I love you," she whispered. It didn't matter that he already knew. It was time she had the guts to say it, because she wanted him to hear it. After everything they'd been through, he had a right to feel the way she did when he said it to her.

Cal leaned his forehead against hers and closed his eyes, soaking in her words. Sheer contentment was what she saw on his face when he opened them again. "I know, luv. I know you do."

"I think you'll pull the Group through. But if you don't, it's okay," she told him. "Not the end of the world. I want to believe that the two us, we're bigger than this company."

Cal nodded. But she could see that he wasn't really convinced. It's why he still lobbied so hard to get her back. Because for him the three of them were linked and always would be. Him, her and the Group.

Taking a step away from him, Gillian grabbed a hair elastic and tied her short, messy hair back. They would need to freshen up at the hotel before they could meet anyone. "We should clean up a bit before heading out. So your buddy won't mind when we come back."

Cal gestured to a bottle of whisky that Gillian hadn't seen on the counter earlier. "I brought him a thank you."

"Nice."

They fixed up the bed and cleaned up the kitchenette before heading out. Closing the trailer's door behind them.

The sun was already heating up the desert and Gillian put on her sunglasses before getting into the car. Ready for the early morning drive across the Mojave with the man she loved. A drive that was going include a stop at a greasy roadside diner with strong, stale coffee. Gillian grinned to herself. The Lightman Group might be hanging by a thread and she had a prison job with a boss that hated her guts.

But at the moment she'd be lying if she said she cared about either of them. Right now, everything in her life was good. Really good.


	29. Chapter 29

Once again, thanks to my proof-reader and sounding board, GDA.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 29 <strong>

_Lightman residence, Washington, DC _

_One week before Christmas _

"We should have told her," Gillian pointed out, for what must have been the seventeenth time, as she scooped up a spoonful of yoghurt from her bowl.

They were having breakfast together in his kitchen, after taking Moritz for a half hour walk at the crack of dawn. Moritz who was now sitting at the foot of his barstool following Cal's every movement, because the clever giant was well aware that his chances of getting illicit treats were much bigger with him than they were with Foster.

Cal verified what the dog already knew by lowering his arm and giving Moritz a piece of cheese.

"Stop feeding him cheese," Gillian chided him.

Cal could've sworn her attention was on pouring milk into her coffee. "Stop worrying about Emily."

They'd planned to pick up his daughter from the airport tonight. Together.

Gillian pointed her spoon in his direction after putting some sugar into her coffee with it. "You know that your daughter thinks she's coming home to spend Christmas with her father, right? Not with the two of us. She also thinks we're still barely talking to each other."

"Emily is gonna love finding out that we are talking to each other. Among the other things that we do to each other."

Gillian rolled her eyes, setting down her coffee. "She's going to be angry that we kept this from her."

"For about five minutes."

"Why don't we pick her up together, go out for dinner and then I'll go back to my place," Gillian suggested. "It'll give Emily a bit of time to adjust to...us."

"No," Cal was adamant about this. "I want you here with us. Em's not a five year old that we have to handle with kid gloves. She's a big girl and you forget that she's crazy about you. My daughter spends more time texting you than she does her own father."

"It's different, Cal! Getting along with your Dad's business partner and knowing she's sleeping with your father in the room next door."

"Em doesn't 'get along' with you! She adores you. My daughter's been wanting me to hook up with you since I divorced her mother! Maybe even before that."

Gillian exhaled. "Fine..."

Cal slurped up the rest of his cereal, got up to put the bowl in the sink before moving around the table and putting a hand on her shoulder, feeling how tense she was with one squeeze. "I don't get this, luv. Why are you nervous about this? It's gonna be fine. She's gonna love it all. You. Me. Having you around here."

But nothing he was saying this morning was reassuring her.

"I love her, Cal. I just...want her to be happy with this. To want it too. I don't want to force something on her that she's not ready for. She's a teenager. Don't forget that."

"She's old enough to vote and to die for her country. I'd say she's an adult."

"She's nineteen!"

"Twenty in two months," he added. That reality suddenly hit him too. That his little girl was soon going to be_ two decades old. _A full-fledged adult. It was madness, how quickly time passed.

Cal pushed the thought from his mind and massaged Gillian's shoulders, pleased that he was able to ease the tension out of them with the simple touch of his hands. Much as she was driving him crazy about this, he knew that it was because she loved Emily. That all her fussing and fretting was rooted in love for his daughter.

Granted, there were other reasons he wanted to keep Foster close. Reasons that went beyond his selfish needs and wants. Beyond even the fact that having her around made him so damn happy.

Hunter Kline was out of prison and even though Gillian believed that the guy was too smart not to have hopped on the first flight to Thailand, Cal wasn't convinced. He'd asked Wallowski to keep a discreet, electronic trail on Kline's every move. One that hadn't turned up any traces of overseas activities so far.

Cal really wanted to be wrong this time. He was even hoping that Foster would get a chance to say, 'I told you so' after Wallowski turned up some credit card trail on the psycho in Bangkok.

But so far it hadn't happened. So far it looked like Kline was still in DC, according to a local restaurant bill that Wallowski _did_ trace a couple of days ago.

Cal knew he was being irrational about Hunter Kline, but he didn't care. Better irrational than sorry. And irrational meant that he made sure Gillian hadn't spent a night alone since they got back from Vegas. Not that she really minded or was even aware of his hidden agenda. Right now neither of them had the restraint to keep their hands of each other for very long. That's what nine years of waiting did to you.

"Hmm...that feels good," she acknowledged in response to his spur-of-the-moment massage, tilting her head sideways a little to give him better access.

He didn't really have time for it, but Cal lingered a couple of minutes longer, kneading her shoulders until she sighed contently.

Bending down to give her a kiss, Cal brushed aside a strand of hair from her face. "Stop stressing, alright? Em's gonna be over the moon when she finds out about us."

Gillian gave him a lop-sided smile. "Hope you're right."

"I'm always right," he quipped. "You should know that by now."

"Whatever." She looked up at him. "I'm going to go back to my place after work to pick up a few things. Do you want to meet me there and we'll pick her up in your car?"

"Sounds good," he agreed, moving over to the full-length mirror in the living room to straighten his tie. Bloody Leslie Rotblatt had insisted he wear a suit to her client meeting today and because he was so desperate for her work he had no choice but to oblige.

"You look handsome," Gillian pointed out with a grin, getting up to put her dishes away. "Maybe this Rotblatt contract isn't so bad for you after all."

Cal winced. He felt like a corporate puppet.

"Sexy," she added and he saw her silhouette leaning against the kitchen doorway now, her tight dress accentuating every perfect curve of her body, raising his pulse a little.

He wanted to rip off this damn suit and...

Gillian was still eyeing him. Still grinning. "Text me when you're ready tonight. I'll be at my place."

He took one more good long look at her standing in the doorway, letting the image soak into his brain so he'd have something to sustain him for the rest of the day. "Right. See you tonight, luv." He stepped towards her to give her a good-bye kiss. A real one that lingered on her eager lips, prompted her fingers to weave through his hair, pull him closer and make him even more hot and bothered than he already was.

Cal fought the impulse to continue and looked in Moritz's direction after he eased away from her. "Don't be jealous. We'll get you a girl too."

"I don't think so," Gillian shot back. "Not in this lifetime."

"I'll work on it, Moritz," Cal promised as he ambled out of the house.

"Not happening!"

He chuckled as he caught a glimpse of the poinsettias and the Christmas tree in his living room on the way out. That was Foster's idea. Wanting to decorate the house in time for Emily's arrival. There were gifts underneath the tree too. Four altogether. Two from her for Emily and one for him and there was one from him for his daughter too. But not a single one for Gillian yet and it made him cringe. He was lousy at buying gifts. Always had been. He reminded himself that he needed to find something. Soon.

Cal yawned after he got into the car and checked the time on his Rolex. It was only 7am. Gillian might've gotten up to have breakfast and walk the dog with him but she could've left for work an hour from now and still been on time. She'd also be done a few hours before him. And that was only today, when he made plans to get out early for Emily.

Sometimes it made him wonder whether it was all worth it. All of this. Every day. Just to keep to his company hanging on by a thread.

* * *

><p><em>Lightman Group Office <em>

Ria Torres just finished wolfing down a turkey-avocado sandwich with extra jalapenos when Cal Lightman made an appearance, poking his head into her office, wearing a suit no less.

"How'd it go with Leslie this morning?" she asked.

"Managed to get through it without gouging my eyes out," he told her, loosening his tie while he moved into her space. "Need your help with something, Torres."

Of course he did. What day went by where he didn't pile another assignment on her? If she wasn't so painfully aware of their dire finances she would have held out for a raise a long time ago.

He didn't wait for an answer from her. He never did. "Something personal."

"You need my help with something personal?"

"I need you to help me with a Christmas gift."

"A Christmas gift?"

Lightman threw his arms up into the air. "Are we in an echo chamber here?"

Torres sighed. "You were saying?"

"I want you to find something nice for me. Something that'd...you love to get. You yourself."

"I like mustard. Nice gourmet mustard from the market."

"Can we be serious here?"

"I am serious!" Ria shot him an offended look. "Are you asking me to get a Christmas gift for Emily?"

"No..." Lightman turned around and started to pace, like he always did when was irritated. Or wound even tighter than usual. "Not for Emily."

"For who?"

"Pretend it's for you."

"If this is your way of buying me a Christmas gift, just give me a hundred bucks. Then I can buy some really nice mustard and there'll be enough left for a massage at a spa."

Lightman was still pacing. "Is that what you'd like? You know, as a woman? A massage at a spa?"

Ria shrugged. "Sure...that'd be nice."

Lightman reached into his pant pocket and pulled out his wallet. Opened it and handed her a credit card. "Alright then, can you pick a nice spa and get one of those? Make sure they put the certificate in a little box and put a bow around it and all that, yeah?"

"For me?"

"No..." Lightman looked at her, incredulously. "Not for you."

"Then for who?"

"Bloody hell, Torres, it's for someone special! Enough with the questions."

Ria stared at him. Of course. How could she be so dense? It was for Foster. If only he could have told her that, it would have made it easy. At least she had an idea what Foster liked. If only he'd tell them already so they could stop pretending that they had no idea.

"What are you smirking at?" he wanted to know.

"Nothing," she made a half decent effort to avert his gaze and his skills, unable to stop smirking though. "Why can't you admit that you have a girlfriend?"

Lightman narrowed his eyes and moved even closer into her space. "I have a girlfriend, Torres. Happy?"

Her smile broadened at the unexpected victory. "So what's her name?"

Lightman laughed and backed off. "Nice try."

"What if they need her name for the gift certificate?" she tried.

"Have them write Mrs. Cal Lightman on it."

"Whoa..." Ria gulped. "This is serious!"

"Don't be daft. No one needs a name for a gift certificate."

_It was worth a try. _

He was almost out the door when he suddenly poked his head back inside. "Torres..."

"Yeah?"

"Go and get one for yourself too. A massage or some mustard or whatever."

She looked at him in disbelief. "Seriously?"

"Yeah...seriously," he shot back. "Happy Christmas."

Ria smiled, looking at the credit card in her hand. She'd find a really nice spa and throw in a facial. She owed Foster. For having the uncanny ability to make her boss human again.

* * *

><p><em>Foster Residence, Washington DC <em>

Gillian Foster was running late, because of course her boss decided they needed to have an emergency staff meeting, all three of them; Penn, herself and a new grad school intern from Washington U. Of course. On the one day she really wanted to get out on time. The one day she could have used some extra time pack her things, have a quick shower, find something nice to wear and maybe have a quiet cup of coffee before heading out to the airport to pick up Emily.

But no. Of course Doug Penn wasn't capable of not making her life difficult.

So now she'd only just walked through the doors of her town house when she got Cal's text.

-I'm 30 mins out. Be there soon.

_Damn. _

Gillian tossed her purse on the couch, took off her coat and slipped out of her heels. A really quick shower was doable.

By the time she came back out, dried her hair and started tossing the things she needed into a carry-on suitcase, there was another text from Cal on her phone.

-still more than 20 mins out. mad traffic. did u get my first text?

She picked up her phone and texted him back.

-Got it. See you then.

Gillian paused in front of a mirror to check out her outfit. A colourful peasant blouse to go with her dark jean, heels and silver jewellery. It was casual but nice without being too formal. Or was it too casual?

"For Christ's sake...stop it," she told herself. "It's Emily. Not his mother."

Emily who'd already seen her at her worst after the accident, physically and emotionally. Emily, who hung out and watched TV and ate take-out with her anyway. Emily, who'd text her late in the evening when she wanted to run an essay question by her. Emily, whom she'd known since she was ten years old.

_Why am I so nervous about this? _

Because it_ is _Emily, Gillian thought, answering her own question. She wasn't used to looking for approval from others when it came to her relationships. Or her wardrobe. But this was Emily Lightman. Cal's only daughter, who'd just so happened to have been an amazing friend to her these past months. She'd be lying if she said she didn't want Emily, of all people, to approve of what she had with Cal.

_We should have told her. I shouldn't have let Cal talk me into this surprise thing...because now it feels like we've been lying to her these past two months. _

Gillian exhaled and took one more look into the mirror, deciding she was happy with the image that stared back at her.

The doorbell rang.

"That is not twenty minutes, Cal." She still hadn't finished packing. "That's not even five."

Of all the times to be early.

Gillian got to the door and opened it, without looking through the peephole.

Only to find that it wasn't Cal standing on her doorstep.

It was Hunter Kline.

He smiled at her. "Hello, Dr. Foster."


	30. Chapter 30

Thanks again GDA, for keeping the typos to a minimum. :)

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 30 <strong>

_"Hello, Dr. Foster." _

The second her mind registered who was standing on her doorstep, Gillian grabbed her door and tried to slam it shut.

But she wasn't fast or strong enough.

Hunter Kline had already taken a step forward, into her doorway, and pushed the door back so hard that she stumbled backwards and fell.

As soon as he was inside, he was the one who slammed the door shut.

"That wasn't very hospitable."

Gillian's heart was beating so fast and hard she could feel it vibrating in her ears. In her shock, she clumsily pushed herself off the floor and made an attempt to get away from him, but Kline got to her before she was even standing up, grabbing her by the shoulders and pushing her against the wall so forcefully that her entire body crashed into it with a bang.

Blinking away the darkness, Gillian barely felt herself sinking to the floor. Not until she felt Kline's hands on her arms, yanking her back up onto unsteady legs.

It took a moment for her legs to support her weight and for all her senses to return. Only then did Gillian notice that Kline was now pointing a gun at her.

"Don't make things hard for you," he told her. "I have no intention of hurting you. Or...doing anything with you for that matter." Disgust framed his face. The thought of touching her appalled him.

The thudding inside her chest prevented her from being able to detect much of anything in his voice. But she knew that at least part of what he said was a lie. Hunter Kline wasn't going to bang her up a little and then let her go so she could tell the police all about it.

"I want Lightman," he told her. "_Here_."

"What?" Gillian didn't understand. "Cal?"

"You're going to get Lightman to come here," he enunciated the words slowly, one by one and this time there was no mistaking the malice in his voice.

_No way. _

"He's...out of the country," she blurted out, only because that was the first thing that came to her mind. Protecting the man she loved was a gut reaction.

"No, he's not," Kline countered. "Don't you think I would have checked? Do you think I'm stupid, Dr. Foster?"

_No. _

And now that he mentioned it she wondered how he got here. How he knew she'd be home today when she hadn't been the last few days.

Had he been watching her home?

The thought gave her chills. So did his calmness. Hunter Kline was way too calm. Goosebumps lined arms because this, this complete lack of emotion after what he'd just done to her, was neither natural nor human.

Whatever Hunter Kline was going to do, it would leave him cold and detached. Coming here was something he needed to take care of, like taking out the garbage at the end of the day.

"Give me your phone," Kline ordered.

Gillian didn't move and he inched towards her, the gun pointed at her forehead now.

"_Don't_ make this difficult," he repeated slowly.

"What do you want?" she croaked out, taking a good look at his face for the first time.

The brutal beating it took at the prison had healed reasonably well. Although traces of it were still there, in the form of a crooked nose, an ugly scar on the side of his temple, and a bloated mouth that looked like it was undergoing major dental work. His face wasn't the same grotesque mess it had been at the prison, but it was nowhere near as strikingly handsome as it was when she'd first met him at the police station. Gillian doubted it would ever look like that again. Not without major reconstructive surgery.

Kline stared past her. "Never mind..."

He spotted her phone lying on the sofa and walked towards it while keeping his gun on her.

"You have a message." Kline opened her text and read it. It lit up his face with unexpected glee. His first readable emotion. "This...this is fantastic...I don't need you to bring him here. You're useless, just like at that prison where your boss will override every decision you make anyway. Lightman's already on his way. Looks like this is my lucky day."

Kline read the text out loud for her. " 'Completely stuck in traffic now. Haven't moved in the last ten minutes'."

He typed in a reply that Gillian couldn't see.

"What do you want from Lightman?"

_Keep him talking. _

Kline hesitated. He was torn between wanting to tell her, itching to flaunt his brilliant plan while knowing that was a lousy idea. "Maybe I just want the three of us to have a chat?"

Gillian's mind raced. If all he wanted was to kill her he could have already done it.

_Why wait? Why wait until Lightman gets here? _

What was the point of having them both here?

_How does that benefit you? _

The first thought that came to her made her shiver again. If Kline killed them together, it might be possible to make it look like a murder-suicide.

Gillian stared at him, her heart still racing. "You won't get away with that...you won't. Not a chance."

Kline looked at her. "Away with what?"

"He's my best friend. It's why he's coming here now. And you...making it look like either one of us would hurt the other? No one in their right mind would ever believe it."

Hunter Kline inched back towards her. "No? You don't think so?"

He grabbed her by the wrist with one hand and pushed up the sleeve of her blouse with tip of his handgun. "Really?" He questioned, poking at the scar on her arm with the barrel. "Did you inflict this on yourself?"

Gillian swallowed. How could he have known?

"Dr. Lightman placed a 911 call a few months ago because of an accident that happened at his office late that day. After that call _you_ went to the hospital to get your arm stitched up. You never returned to work at the Lightman Group after that night. The doctor's report mentioned an accident following an altercation in Dr. Lightman's office...and ironically, Dr. Lightman, your supposed best friend and partner didn't accompany you to the hospital that night. Even though he was right there when it happened."

Gillian suddenly felt light-headed. "How did you...?"

"Get access to the medical report?" he cut her off. "Doesn't matter. Not your concern."

"It's a lie. There was no altercation."

Except_ that_ was a lie.

They _had _been fighting that night. And for weeks before that that. Everyone at the Group knew it. It was Cal losing his temper that made him hit that bookshelf.

Kline stared her down. "I don't really care about the specifics. I see a man that has a history of bullying and provoking people. A man with a known temper whose best friend and partner left him and their company because she couldn't take it anymore. Because she now has a lifelong scar running down her arm. What if that man kept pushing her? Maybe he came to her house and they got into another fight? One that ended up with him roughing her up a little. Surely _that_ would push her to the breaking point." Kline exhaled. "She'd snap, wouldn't you agree? I mean, you're the psychologist here, you must have seen patients who snapped and did unthinkable things."

Gillian's mouth was dry, unable to speak.

Kline went on. "After realizing what she did, of course she wouldn't be able to live with herself." He snickered a little. "Mind you, if she did, I do know some good defense attorneys that could get her off."

"This is...absurd. No one's ever going to fall for that..." Gillian mumbled, realizing that even as she said it, it sounded hollow. In light of everything that happened between her and Lightman recently, to the casual observer, of course it _was_ plausible.

No one knew that they'd forgiven each other. Or that they'd spent a glorious, blissful month as lovers. They hadn't told anyone. Not her co-workers. Or anyone at the Lightman Group. Even Cal's own daughter thought they were still barely on speaking terms.

"You know, Dr. Foster, don't worry about any of that. That'll be my problem."

Gillian envisioned how it would happen. Kline would shoot Cal the moment he walked through the door. Then he'd put the gun to her own head and pull the trigger. It's why he was keeping her alive for now. He needed the first bullets to hit Cal.

The thought made her knees feel weak and they started shaking.

Fear was starting to paralyze her but even so, there was a rational part of her that realized she couldn't just stand here and wait for things to unfold. She couldn't just wait until Cal got here and was ambushed. She had to try something. _Anything_.

There was no way she going to make this easy for him and go down without a fight.

Gillian waited for the split second when his attention was not on her and then she lunged at Hunter Kline, digging into his eyes and face with her fingernails.

* * *

><p><em>Washington DC<em>

Cal Lightman cursed when he heard the next song on the radio. As if it wasn't bad enough to be stuck in a sudden traffic bottleneck, he was now subjected to listening to teenage boy bands singing about breakups on Facebook.

_Really? _

He flicked off the music with one fast, annoyed push of the button and then stole a glance at his Rolex. As long as Em's flight wasn't early he had plenty of time to grab Gillian and make it to the airport in time.

"We wouldn't have this problem if you moved in with me already..." he mouthed out loud to himself.

Gillian liked to get on his case for moving too fast. At least that's what she called it.

_"Slow down, Cal. You and me, this is just the beginning." _

It bothered her sometimes, all his talk about a future together when they'd only just started dating. Sometimes it made him want to find her ex-husband and sock him one, for the number he'd done on Gillian.

He could hear her voice in his mind now.

_"It hasn't even been two months." _

But he didn't see it that way. They'd been together for nearly a decade. Friends, partners, _best _friends. He spent more time with Foster than just about anyone else and he still wanted more. That he loved her and wanted her in every sense of the word was something he realized a long time ago. Now he wanted to seal the deal. Wanted the world to know she was his. He was proprietary that way.

Marriage and living together didn't feel impulsive to him when it came to Gillian Foster. It felt natural. Inevitable. Why wait? What the hell were they waiting for anyway? They weren't twenty anymore and they both wanted it. Much as she protested, he could see she how much she loved being around, being at his place, every chance she got.

Cal pressed lightly on the gas and his car moved a few inches, nearing the bumper of the Miata in front of him.

His cell phone beeped and he saw a response to his text from Gillian.

-no worries c u soon.

Cal massaged his neck, uncomfortable, as he always was when his restless self was trapped in traffic. But of course Foster wasn't the least bit irritated.

Just about anything could annoy him and set him off, but it took a lot for something to bother her. Getting to her place late definitely wouldn't fit the bill. She was an old soul when it came to things like that.

Cal bit his lower lip and debated turning the radio back on and trying to find a station with real music.

But then his attention drifted back to the text.

_no worries c u soon _

Really? From the woman who had the annoying habit of correcting his grammar mid-sentence? Who'd gone on and on the other day about how texting marked the downfall of the English language?

Cal remembered telling her she should find a real cause to fight for. Global warming or baby seals or something.

"The English language is worth fighting for," Gillian had told him, going into lecture mode. "It's a beautiful thing. Language is what sets us apart from the rest of the animal kingdom."

His fingers scrolled back through their previous text conversations. Gillian was the only person in the world who used proper grammar when she texted. Periods and commas and capitals and all.

He was about to send her a text asking what the hell was going on. Whether she'd finally decided to join the Dark Side.

Until a sudden a sense of unease crept over him. Out of nowhere.

_What if she didn't send that text? _

_What if...? _

A knot tightened his stomach and Cal fought back the fear that gripped him. He dialled her number and she didn't pick up.

_Stop it. Not picking up doesn't mean she's been kidnapped. _

Hunter Kline's release had made him paranoid all week and that's where his mind was going now.

She was probably texting Emily at the same time and his daughter's teenage grammar was rubbing off on her. _That's all. _

Someone honked at him when Cal failed to advance a few inches.

_Sod off. _

The traffic crept along at an agonizingly slow pace. And Cal couldn't stop staring at the text.

_Text her back. Send a test to make sure it's her on the other end. _

He started typing.

-I took Fluffy for walk before coming here

He did check on Moritz this afternoon, because the Lightman Group was closer to his place than Foster's workplace. But, no. That was stupid. She would respond with a "What?" and it still wouldn't verify that it was her. Cal erased it.

_Think. _

He started typing again.

-how's your migraine? u feeling any better than this morning?

Cal didn't think Foster had ever complained of a migraine for as long as he'd known her. Certainly not this morning.

_Ok, that's better. _

He hit send and waited.

The traffic had come to a standstill now. Nothing was moving and it made his skin crawl. Made him grip his steering wheel and shift in his seat with a nervous energy.

Five minutes came and went. Cal dialled her number again.

Still no answer.

_Come on, luv. Text me back. Ask me what the hell I'm talking about. _

Thirteen minutes and two car lengths later, his cell phone pinged. There was a new text from Gillian.

-feel much better now. its almost gone

The panic that gripped him ten minutes ago was nothing compared to the cold, hard terror that hit him now.

_He got to you. _

His first instinct was to dial 911 until he realized it would sound insane.

_My girlfriend's texts are not her own. I think a psychopath we interviewed together is at her house. _

There was no way they'd send a cop car over there based on that. Unless...

Cal's shaky fingers searched for Wallowski in his contact list. Pressing on her name as soon as he found her.

_Pick up, damn it. _

She did after four rings.

"Cal?"

"Kline's at Foster's place."

"_What_?"

"I need you to send the cops over there _now_!"

"How do you know...?"

_"Just do it, damn it!" _

There was a second of silence until she responded and he could hear the fear in her voice as well. "Okay...I will, but I swear, Cal. If this is your paranoia and it turns..."

"Call them."

"Alright..."

She hung up on him.

Cal never wanted to be wrong more badly. Let Wallowski arrest him for being a public nuisance. Let the police charge him with something stupid.

As long as Gillian was okay.

He didn't give a damn about the rest.

Cal yanked his steering wheel to the left and turned onto the shoulder. Pressing hard on the gas as soon as he did. Ignoring the cars that honked at him as a result. Hoping that a cop car would turn up and chase him all the way to Foster's place.


	31. Chapter 31

Big thanks to my patient proof-reader, GDA. And of course to those still reading and letting me know what you think!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 31 <strong>

_Foster residence, Washington DC _

Her attack came from nowhere and it shocked Hunter Kline. Giving her the chance to inflict some serious damage.

Gillian's finger nails dug into his right eye and ripped open a good chunk of skin underneath it. Kline yelped out in pain and dropped his gun.

And suddenly she had a fighting chance.

Diving for the gun, Gillian realized it was the wrong move even as she was doing it. Releasing her grip on him gave Kline the two seconds he needed to recover and to lunge his entire body weight at her and send them both crashing down to the floor.

Kneeling on top of her, he dug his knees into her body and slapped her so hard that she saw stars. Little twinkling lights that glistened behind his bloodied face.

"You stupid, stupid bitch..." he hissed, grabbing the gun again before she even got near it.

The pressure of his full weight on her made her gag.

Kline kept pressing into her, crushing her and pushing his hand down on her mouth. Gillian felt the bile rising in her throat as he cut off her oxygen supply. She was going to throw up or pass out or both.

Neither of them happened. Instead, Kline flipped her over so fast that she was suddenly lying on her stomach. He was straddling her now but giving her enough room that she could get some air back into her lungs. Then he grabbed her arms and slapped handcuffs on her wrists before she was even aware that he'd pulled them out of his pocket.

"Didn't think I'd have to resort to these. Thought you were smarter than that. Clearly I was wrong. "

Kline finally got off her and Gillian coughed as she gasped for air.

He barely gave her the chance to catch her breath before grabbing one of her arms and yanking her back up. The sudden movement made her so dizzy that she fell right back down.

"Oh for chrissakes," he mumbled in disgust. Grabbing her with both arms now. Supporting her weight as he shoved her onto the sofa.

Hunter Kline glared at her, wiping the blood from his cheek with the back of his hand. He had trouble keeping his injured eye open.

"That," he spat. "Was_ really_ stupid."

Gillian found a spot to focus on, a giant blood-stain on his face, because it helped her stop shaking.

Kline reached for her phone, his breathing as heavy and laboured as hers. "Oh look...Lightman sent you another text." He wiped some more blood off his face with the sleeve of his shirt. "Did you have a headache this morning, sweetheart? Well, then _that _couldn't have helped."

She watched him type in a reply.

What was he talking about?

"Cal..." Her mouth wasn't working right and she had a hard time getting the words out. "Cal and I we're a couple. You see...that's why this isn't going to work."

_Plus I now have your DNA under my fingernails. _

Her attempt to clobber him wasn't a complete failure. There'd be physical indicators of a struggle too, on both their bodies.

It was dawning on her, that she probably wouldn't get out of this alive but because of what she'd done, Hunter Kline wouldn't get away with this. There was a small comfort in knowing that.

Gillian kept focussing on his face, slowly making out the traces of doubt she saw there now.

_Think. Do something about it._

They might not have announced their relationship to anyone else but there was no way Kline could have known that. "Everyone knows that we love each other. No one would believe that I'd hurt him. Or that he'd hurt me..."

He waved the gun in the air. "Shut up."

"It's why he's coming here. Why he's texting me..." she reiterated, her voice still shaky. "It's because we love each other."

"I said _stop talking_!"

"It's not too late to stop this," she told him, finding the first inkling of a way out since he set foot in her house. "Right now all they've got is an assault charge. That's it. Nothing else." She took a deep breath. Finally. Enough air. "It's like you said...a good defense attorney will get you off."

He moved right into her face and for a moment she shirked back in fear, thinking he'd hit her again.

"I said shut up!"

Gillian paused, debating whether to keep quiet. Afraid that he'd lash out at her again. Terrified that he'd do something that would leave her unconscious and completely defenceless.

But at least she'd managed to unsettle him. To elicit a host of emotions.

_Cal would be proud. _

If she could blow up his doubts, maybe she could stop this madness from unravelling. Could find a way to save herself_ and_ Cal.

"One assault charge," Gillian reminded him, quietly. There was no point appealing to his compassion when he had none. But she could appeal to his rationale. "With the right lawyers you'll barely spend any time in jail. Big difference from a double murder charge."

* * *

><p><em>Washington DC<em>

Once he got off the highway Cal was only minutes from her place.

He drove as fast as he could without running anyone over and got there in six minutes flat.

He pulled his car into the first open space he saw, not bothering to look for a parking spot. Legal or otherwise.

Slamming his car door shut, he ran towards her town home.

There was no police cruiser in sight. No sound of sirens in the distance.

_Where the hell are they? _

He was breathless when he got to her front door, suddenly wondering what to do next. If Kline was in there with her, he'd be armed. Meanwhile, his only gun was sitting in a safe at the Lightman Group.

Cal moved to her kitchen window, hoping the curtain was at least partly open so he could peek inside.

It was. Enough so that he could tilt his head and get a diagonal line of view that cut through the doorway of her kitchen and into her living room.

His jaw dropped when he saw Hunter Kline's back and Gillian sitting on the sofa, her hands behind her back. _Handcuffed. _Saw him pointing a gun at her.

Where the hell were the cops? _Where?_

He ducked out of sight and called 911 on his phone. Told the operator there was an armed home invasion in progress at Foster's address then ended the call and went back to the window, wishing he was close enough to see Kline's expression.

But he could see Foster talking to him. Stalling and probing.

_That's my girl. _

Suddenly Kline walked towards her tried to slap her. She must've said something that set him off. Gillian ducked and Kline's hands whacked against her shoulder instead. She winced as Kline yanked her up from the sofa.

Cal balled his fist.

_I'm gonna kill you. _

He couldn't keep standing at the window and watch. Cal's rage led him to her door and he slowly and quietly turned the doorknob. It was unlocked.

If Cal could catch Kline unaware then he stood a chance. Having a handgun didn't make the guy invincible.

Slowly and stealthily he made his way inside, inching along her hallway.

Kline's back was to him but Gillian spotted him and tried not to show her surprise.

Cal gave her the slightest nod of reassurance.

He pressed himself against the hallway wall when Kline turned sideways and suddenly he had a partial view of the man's face. Saw the blood streaking down his cheeks.

"You think I'll just get slapped with an assault charge and everything will be alright again? Everything stopped being alright the day that you and Lightman labelled me a pedophile!"

"Those charges...they never..."

Cal observed her. Heard the shakiness in her voice and caught her struggle to focus. Saw that she was hurt.

She stole a quick glance in his direction.

_You're doing great, luv._

"They never went anywhere. We had no proof. The only reason you ended up in jail was because you attacked Lightman!"

"You think my law firm gave a damn about proof? You think they'll ever give me another high profile case?"

"There are a lot of law firms in a lot of cities. It...it doesn't have to be here."

_That's it. Keep him talking. _

Cal inched a little closer still. If Kline turned around now there would be no way to hide.

Gillian went on, rambling now. Just for his sake.

Cal took another step. One more and he'd be close enough to pounce on him from behind.

He inched forward and accidentally brushed against a picture frame in the hallway, shaking the painting and making enough noise that Hunter Kline turned around.

_Shit. _

The man eyes widened in genuine shock.

But it didn't take Kline long to recover from it.

"Don't..." he ordered. "...make a single move or I'll blow your brains out."

Cal raised his hands. He meant it. Cal didn't have to be a face reader to see that.

"What do you want from us?" He prodded. "Show us what a big, bad boy you are by storming in here with a gun and roughing up a woman? What a man you are, Heinrich! Bet your mum would be proud."

Gillian's eyes widened in fear. _Don't! _

All Cal wanted was to take Kline's attention away from Foster. Keep him angry and pissed and talking long enough for the cops to get here and that _had_ to happen any second now.

"I'm going to kill you," Kline told him. The rage was written all over his face.

"Then what? You spend the rest of your life behind bars. There's no kiddie porn in prison and judging from the look of your face you already know that they don't like your kind in there."

"Cal, stop it," Gillian pleaded. "_Please_."

After she spoke those words everything happened so quickly, Cal's mind barely had time to register it.

There was the sound of a door crashing in and Wallowski's voice. Yelling.

"_Freeze! Police! Drop the gun now!" _

Then there was the intent he saw on Hunter Kline's face. That unmistakeable combination of rage and peace, determination and serenity that he'd seen so many times before in terrorists and suicide bombers. Cal recognized it even before Kline's gun was raised and his finger started pulling the trigger.

For a split second Cal thought it was all meant for him. Bullets and death and revenge.

But it wasn't.

Hunter Kline turned on his heel and spun around, aiming at Gillian instead.

_No! _

In that moment Cal did the only thing that made sense. The only thing he _could_ do.

He jumped in front of her, acting as a shield, so that when Kline started shooting he'd hit him first.

And he did start shooting. More than once. Red, hot arrows of pain hit his flesh with a force that took his breath away. Gunfire rang through the air, blasting in his ears when he hit the ground with a thud.

He heard Gillian screaming and then he saw Kline collapse on the floor next to him.

It was the last thing he saw before the darkness swallowed him up.


	32. Chapter 32

Big thanks once again to my patient proof-reader, medical advisor and sounding board, GDA. :)

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 32 <strong>

_Reagan National Airport_

Emily Lightman looked at her phone again. At the time in the lower right hand corner.

She'd been sitting in the waiting lounge for thirty minutes now, long after everyone from her flight had already dispersed. Even the aircraft was probably on the verge of taking off again soon.

And still no sign of her father. Three texts and two calls had gone unanswered.

She propped her feet up on another chair and sighed. Annoyed. This wasn't the Christmas homecoming she'd expected. Her father had sent her a text a few minutes before she boarded the plane, telling her he'd meet her at the arrivals level. That'd he holding a sign that read her name, just in case she no longer recognized him after being apart for so long.

Funny.

Except now he wasn't anywhere in sight. Was probably working on some case for the Lightman Group while losing track of time.

She didn't think it was funny anymore.

Emily called Torres at the Lightman Group and she wasn't answering her phone either. They were probably out on a case. Both of them.

She'd wait a little longer and then think of someone else to call. A friend who might come and pick her up. Maybe even Gillian.

_Lightman Group Offices_

Ria Torres was staring at her computer screen and on her third cup of cappuccino of the day when her desk phone rang. She used to scoff at Foster's fancy European coffee machine, thinking it was an upper-class fad. That good old, brewed American was just fine for her.

Until the day she'd been too busy to head down to the staff lounge and started toying with the machine in her office.

That was two months ago and now she sometimes panicked at the thought of Foster coming back for it. There had to be a statue of limitations on things like this. Surely, once you left something behind for a few months it was like renouncing ownership.

The phone kept ringing and Ria kept ignoring it, savouring another sip of her cappuccino. There was too much to do right now. Besides, she had voice mail for a reason and if it really was super urgent, Lightman would call her on her cell. Or text her. He always did.

So she let it ring.

But the caller was persistent. Trying again when Ria wouldn't pick up.

Finally she glanced at the call display. Sharon Wallowski.

Maybe it _was_ urgent. Torres cringed as she picked it up hoping her boss wasn't in any more trouble with the police. Because really, after he punched out a cop at the station, he was still treading on thin ice with them. Even if they did have him on a retainer free of charge these days.

"Yeah...this is Ria."

She listened to what Wallowski had to say on the other end, unable to grasp what she was hearing.

"What do you mean there's been a shooting?"

Wallowski had to repeat herself twice. Slowly. Spelling out the details and even then it didn't really sink in. Lightman was shot? A man was dead in Foster's house?

Wallowski said something about Lightman being in surgery right now. That they weren't sure whether he was going to pull through.

Heart beating wildly, it felt as though her blood was draining out of her, leaving Ria lightheaded and dumbfounded.

She barely noticed Loker walking into her office.

"Who died?" he quipped after taking one look at her face.

Ria didn't say a word and Loker's expression changed to one of concern.

"What's wrong?"

"Wallowski called..."

"About what?"

"This guy that Lightman helped her interview a while ago...some lawyer that Wallowski was trying to build a case against. He went over to Foster's place tonight. He tried to kill her but Lightman he..."

Loker kneeled down next to her. The shock registered on his face now. "He_ what_?"

"Lightman jumped in front of her...and he got shot. Three times."

Eli Loker was the one who was speechless now and Ria hadn't noticed that she was crying. "They took him to Georgetown. He's in surgery now."

"We should go there."

Ria nodded. "Yeah..."

"What about Foster? Is she okay?"

"Wallowski said she was banged up. She's at the hospital with him." She didn't want to imagine what Foster had to be feeling right now. Ria knew how much Gillian loved him, in spite of everything. Knew that she always had.

She wasn't even sure what she was feeling.

So what if Lightman drove her crazy. He was the heart and soul of this company. The one who'd plucked her from a lousy job at the airport and given her a career, an education and a six-figure income. Cal Lightman had given her a future.

_What am I gonna do if anything happens to you? _

Loker was staring at her.

"It's Lightman. He's gonna be okay," he tried, while every micro-expression on his face was the exact opposite of reassuring.

_Georgetown University Hospital, DC _

Sharon Wallowski stared at her with a mix of concern and doubt and something else that she couldn't quite read.

Gillian didn't blame her. Would have probably given the other woman the same look if she'd walked into the waiting room as slowly as she did, one arm still holding her ribs.

She sat down gingerly, next to her and Wallowski waited a moment before asking her how she was.

It was a stupid question.

But Gillian answered it anyway, hoping it would stop Wallowski from looking at her as though she was about to fall apart. "I'll be okay."

Granted there should have been a second part to that question.

_If he makes it through the surgery. Then I'll be okay. _

"Is there any news...about Cal?" she asked.

Wallowski shook her head. "Not yet. They're still working on him. They haven't told us anything."

Gillian swallowed, assaulted by the same horrible nausea she felt after seeing Cal get shot in front of her. "Okay."

"We contacted Zoe," Wallowski told her. "Apparently she was on her way home from O'Hare when we did. She turned around, went back to the airport and caught the first flight to DC."

Gillian closed her eyes. Could feel the slight, steady throb behind her eyelids when she did. The young female doctor who examined her for nearly an hour and taken the necessary scans to make sure she wasn't bleeding to death internally and had given her something for the pain. Something that took the edge off the pounding in her head and made it less painful to move. Nothing was broken, the doctor told her. Only scratches and contusions. Gillian hadn't really paid attention to the details because the only thing she needed to hear was that she wouldn't be admitted. That she wouldn't be shoved into a hospital room far away from the OR where Cal was fighting for his life.

It's where her focus was, on the doors of the operating room, now that the pain no longer distracted her from it.

Gillian wasn't sure that was a good thing.

But she _was_ sure that having Zoe Landau here to pace around in the waiting room wasn't.

"Hey..."

Gillian opened here eyes when she felt Wallowski's hand on her shoulder.

"You _sure_ you're okay?"

_No. And I won't be until someone comes out and says he's okay. _

"The doc told me you have a concussion. That I should try and convince you to lie down somewhere instead of sitting here and..."

"No," Gillian cut her off. She wasn't going to move from here until he got out of surgery. Until they knew something._ Anything_. She wasn't as fragile as they thought.

Wallowski backed off. "Okay. Your call."

Sharon excused herself and got up when her cell phone rang, turning back to Gillian after a short conversation. "It's Torres," she told her. "She said Emily kept calling the Lightman Group until they put the call through to her cell. Says Emily's at the airport. Apparently Lightman was supposed to pick her up tonight?"

_Oh my god, Emily. _

How could they have forgotten her?

"Is she...is she still there?" Gillian asked her. "At the airport?"

Wallowski repeated the question to Torres and nodded.

"Did Ria tell her anything yet?"

"Not yet."

_Good. _

"Can you have Ria tell Emily to call your cell, so I can talk to her?" Gillian had no idea where her phone was right now. She'd left it at her house after the shooting and she wanted Emily to hear what happened from her. Not from Ria Torres. Or anyone else.

Wallowski nodded and when she ended the call she sat back down next to Gillian.

"Torres was on her way here, along with Loker, but she said she's gonna turn around and grab Emily from the airport."

"Okay..."

"You sure you're okay to tell her what happened?"

Gillian wished Wallowski would stop looking at her like she was about to break.

"Yes," she could hear the annoyance in her own voice the second she said it. Felt bad about it because she'd always been less than kind to Wallowski. Partly because she hated lying to the authorities to cover up Wallowski's lies. But mostly because she thought Cal

cared for her. _Really _cared for her.

Gillian knew now that it wasn't true. But still. Gillian resented her for being here. Wished she would take her concerned looks and go away.

It was irrational and petty, and it made Gillian feel even worse than she already did.

Besides, it was a lie.

Gillian wasn't ready to tell Emily what happened. She barely understood what happened herself.

One minute she was getting ready to pick up Cal's daughter from the airport, the next Hunter Kline was inside her house. Shoving her into walls and saying he needed Cal for his plans.

_What plans? _

Then she spotted Cal, sneaking up on them in her hallway. How had he even known that Kline was there? After that, he began talking to Kline, provoking him and trying to distract him. And then the police came. Half a dozen officers came crashing through her door and running down her hallway shouting things she could barely make out.

_Who had called the police?_

Then there was Kline, turning around with lightning speed and aiming the barrel of his gun at her.

In that instant Gillian knew she was going to die. Although her memory of what happened was hazy and confused, she did remember what she thought and felt in that moment when she was certain that it was all over.

How grateful she felt for the last few weeks.

_I loved every moment I had with you. Every touch, every kiss, every look. _

And that's when Gillian realized she was wrong. She wasn't going to die.

The bullets didn't hit her because all of a sudden it wasn't Kline who stood in front of her but Cal.

It was Cal's body that absorbed all of Kline's rage and all of his bullets. Cal who slumped to the ground unconscious while all she could do was watch and scream. Scream in disbelief and horror because this couldn't really be happening, could it? It was the worst nightmare in the world and all she wanted was to wake up.

Gillian shivered. Saw the goose bumps running up along her arms when her thoughts came back to the present.

She didn't remember much else.

There were paramedics who hovered over Cal, before hoisting him up on a gurney and wheeling him away, while Wallowski slowly undid her handcuffs. She'd been too dizzy to stand, was shaking too hard to do anything really, and truthfully she couldn't quite remember how she ended up here in the hospital.

Wallowski's cell phone rang and she handed it to Gillian.

"It's Emily."


	33. Chapter 33

Big thanks to my proof-reader, GDA, for putting Herodotus aside to go over my fic. ;) And equally big thanks to those still reading and leaving your feedback!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 33 <strong>

_Georgetown University Hospital, Washington DC _

"Hi, Emily."

"Gillian, what's wrong?" A frantic voice answered on the other end. "I called Torres and she said she's gonna pick me up at the airport 'cause Dad was tied up in a case. But I could tell something was wrong...I'm not stupid, Gillian. Then she tells me to call you, which only confirms that something's wrong!"

Gillian took a deep breath. "Emily, sweetheart...slow down."

"Did something happen to my Dad?"

For once Gillian wished she wasn't able to hear every ounce of panic and fear in another person's voice. "Cal was helping the police on a case..." she started. "Together with Wallowski he interviewed a suspect a few months ago and during that interview he attacked your father. It landed that man in jail."

"And...?"

"This man, Emily..." Gillian searched for the right words. "He was mentally unstable. He blamed me and Cal for ruining his life. He came to my house tonight and he wanted to hurt me but your Dad..." Gillian fought back the tears that were pooling in her eyes. "He figured it out somehow. He came to my house and..."

"And _what_?" Emily was crying now. "What happened?"

"He was shot."

"_Shot_?"

There was silence at first and then Gillian heard the sound of sobbing. It was that sound that did her in and made her own tears fall again.

"Is he...is he gonna be okay?"

"He's in surgery now, Em. I'm at the hospital waiting to hear from the doctors."

More crying.

"Emily..." Gillian continued in spite of it, forcing Emily to pay attention. "Ria and Loker are coming to get you. They're going to bring you here. Your Mom's coming in too. He's going to be okay. Your Dad's tough. He's going to be fine."

"Okay..."

"Emily," she said gently. "Do you want to stay on the phone with me 'til they get there? I'm here."

"No..." There was sniffling in the background and Gillian could envision Emily's attempt to compose herself. "I'll be okay. I'll wait. I'll wait for Torres and Loker."

"Call me on this number if you change your mind."

Emily Lightman ended the call before Gillian had the chance to say another word, leaving her staring at the blank screen on Wallowski's phone until she heard Sharon's voice.

"You did great," Wallowski told her. "You convinced me he's gonna be fine."

Gillian wiped away her tears, wishing that Wallowski would stop it already. Stop being so kind and nice. It was driving her crazy. She wished the doctors would come out of the operating room already and tell her that the man she loved was going to be okay. Because the wait was getting unbearable and anything else was unimaginable.

* * *

><p><em>Near Reagan airport <em>

Ria Torres tapped her fingers nervously on the steering wheel. They were nearly at the arrivals area.

"What am I gonna say to her when I see her?" she asked Loker without looking at him.

"What _can_ you say?" Loker asked her in return. "We don't know anything."

"I should've been the one to tell her. It's not the kind of news she should have to hear over the phone."

"I think..." Loker paused and the light turned green.

Ria pressed on the gas lightly, not wanting to get there too soon.

"I think Foster did the right thing," Loker continued. "It's better she heard it from her than us. Besides, Foster's a shrink, she knows what to say in these situations."

"Foster just watched the man she loves get gunned down in front of her! And we have no idea how hurt she is," Ria shot back. "What makes you think she's capable of finding the right words right now? Or even thinking straight?"

"I just think..."

"No, you didn't think!"

Loker stared straight ahead. Didn't say anything else.

Ria wanted to punch something. Everything about this was wrong. Lightman getting shot. Emily arriving at the airport alone the day it happened. Foster feeling like she still needed to take care of them all, even now, when she should be filling her shoes and taking the lead.

_Except I don't know how. _

For so many months now Ria thought she'd been responsible for keeping the Lightman Group afloat. But now with Lightman's life hanging in the balance, she knew she was kidding herself. The company was nothing without Lightman. The second she found out that he got shot, Ria figured it meant the end of the Lightman Group.

When push came to shove, they were still the kids, her and Loker. Foster and Lightman were the ones who stepped in, protected each other, did what was necessary and held everything together.

She...she couldn't even figure out how to handle an upset Emily Lightman.

It's why she was so angry. Why she was taking it all out on Eli Loker. Yet another childish reaction.

"I'm sorry," Ria muttered as she pulled the car into a parking spot.

"It's okay," she heard Loker mumble back.

Ria Torres shut off the engine and turned sideways to look at him. "No...it's not. I'm pissed off with everything and it's not your fault." She sighed. "We'll find the right words for Emily, you and me," she told him. "And we'll get her to her Dad as fast as we can."

He nodded and she saw the relief on his face. "Yeah...we will."

They got out of the car and together they walked towards the arrivals terminal.

No matter how much she'd done in the past few months, Ria had a feeling it was nothing compared to the kind of stepping up to the plate that she'd have to do in the near future.

* * *

><p><em>Georgetown University Hospital <em>

It was when she saw two doctors running into the operating room that Gillian Foster panicked.

She turned to Wallowski, who suddenly paled a few notches too. "What's going on?"

"I don't know."

Gillian got up and searched for someone to ask, flagging down the first nurse she saw. "Can someone please tell us what's going on in there?"

The nurse was as puzzled as she was. "I'm sorry...but I don't know. They'll let you know as soon they can."

"Please...I just need to know if he's okay."

"Ma'am...as soon they can, they'll let you know. Promise you."

Gillian didn't want promises. She wanted news. Anything. Did they get the bullets out? How hurt was he anyway? She didn't even know where exactly he got shot.

She felt Wallowski's hand on her shoulder, urging her to calm down and sit down, uttering more platitudes that she didn't really care to hear.

Still, she heeded her suggestion and it took forever until finally a doctor came out to see them. And when he did, he also started saying things Gillian didn't want to hear.

_"...some complications during the surgery..." _

_"...he went into cardiac arrest..." _

_"...serious condition..." _

_"...but we managed to get out all three bullets..."_

Gillian nodded. Listened without really hearing.

_"...went into cardiac arrest..."_

"Can we see him?" she heard Wallowski's voice, although it suddenly sounded far away.

"Not just yet. We need to give him a bit of time to come out of the anaesthesia. We'll let you know as soon as he's awake and alert enough to recognize you and hear your voices."

"Foster?" Wallowski looked at her, a worried frown at the edge of her lips.

"He said Cal's heart stopped during the surgery. That he's...in critical condition."

"He also said they got the bullets out," Wallowski reiterated. "That given the proximity of the one bullet to his heart, what happened wasn't entirely unexpected." She crouched down in front of her, took one of Gillian's hands into hers. "Hey...Foster. He's gonna be okay. That was the worst, right here...the surgery. Now he just needs to recover."

Gillian nodded. "Yeah...you're right."

_Pull yourself together. He's alive. He pulled through. _

"Yeah, I am." Wallowski nodded, giving Gillian's hand a gentle squeeze. "He's gonna need you to believe that too."

"I know..."

_"Gillian?" _

Gillian turned around, let go of Wallowski's hand and saw Emily Lightman entering the waiting room, followed closely by Ria Torres and Eli Loker.

Cal's daughter had red, blood-shot eyes. As though she hadn't stopped crying since their phone call.

Gillian got up to put her arms around Emily, who barely responded, arms hanging limply by her side.

"Is there any news?"

"He just got out of surgery," Gillian told her.

"Can I see him?"

"Not yet. They said they'd let us know as soon as he's awake."

Emily looked shell-shocked and Gillian made sure she had a hold of her. "Come on, sweetheart...sit down."

"I don't want to sit," she told her, slipping her hand out of Gillian's.

"Alright."

Ria and Loker stood next to them.

"How are you doing?" Ria asked her.

Gillian exhaled. Lying to Ria was as pointless as lying to Cal. "I'll be alright." That was close to the truth. "Thank you...for picking up Emily and coming here."

"No need to thank us," Loker interjected. It reminded Gillian of that night after the accident in Cal's office. Loker had been with her then too, at the hospital, waiting for hours to take her home. It reminded her once again that they always took him for granted.

"Ria said that Dad got hit because he was trying to stop the guy from shooting you...is that true?" Emily questioned.

It was starting to make sense to Gillian. The distant way Emily had greeted her. Her refusal to sit down with her. The poorly concealed anger tells she spotted on her face now.

"Yes, he did," Gillian told her. "He saved my life tonight."

"So...does that mean you've finally forgiven him?" Emily tear-filled eyes were full of accusation now. "Did my Dad finally do enough? I mean...is dying for you enough to forgive him?"

"What?" Gillian didn't understand at first. But when she did, the words cut through her like a knife. "Em...your Dad and me, it's not what you think."

"Then what is it?" she wanted to know. "I know he's been trying everything to win you back," Emily's voice was shaking. "Everything he's done to keep the Lightman Group alive! It's all for you! Everything! He's been feeling so guilty for what he's done but no matter what he did, it was never enough. So... is _this _enough? Is that what it takes for you to stop punishing my Dad for what happened?"

Gillian looked at her. Speechless. Unable to grasp any of it. Emily's anger and hurt had come out of nowhere and she couldn't make sense of it. Couldn't handle it either.

Any other time, she might've taken a step back and known how to react. Might've made sense of it even. But not tonight. Tonight it just hurt.

"Emily!" Wallowski stepped between them with a raised voice and shot Cal's daughter an admonishing look. "_Stop that_! You have no idea what..."

Cal's daughter didn't say anything else and then Gillian heard another familiar voice enter the room, in the form of the tall, slender figure that was Cal's ex-wife.

"Emily?" Zoe Landau spotted her daughter before she saw anyone else.

Emily ran towards her, embracing her tearfully.

Wallowski however was seething, even as she watched the mother-daughter reunion, along with Loker and Torres. "That was so uncalled for. She had no right to go off on you..."

"Sharon..." Gillian cut in, hating the thought of a confrontation, here and now, of all times. "There are things she doesn't know. Things we were going to tell her tonight." Gillian leaned in closer to her. "Now's not the time..."

Wallowski didn't agree. "I think they _should_ know...whatever it is you think that no one knows."

Gillian looked at her, aghast. "No...not now." The only thing that mattered now was Cal. Emily was hurt and upset and she'd find a way to sort that out later. Emily Lightman had no idea that she made up with Cal weeks ago. And that was their fault. _We're the ones who left you in the dark. _

"Gillian," Zoe Landau acknowledged her as soon as Emily let go. "I came as soon as Detective Wallowski told me."

"It's good that you came," Gillian told her. It was, even if she didn't like the idea of having Zoe around. It's what Emily needed right now. Her mother.

It occurred to her then that she must've looked terrible, because even Zoe was looking at her with the same sort of barely masked concern that she'd seen on Wallowski's face and Ria's. Was asking her how she was holding up.

Gillian introduced Zoe to Sharon and that's when a doctor came into the room again, letting them know that Cal had woken up from the anaesthesia. Was confused and groggy but conscious.

"You can see him, but please, only for a couple of minutes. He's not up for more right now."

A few minutes wasn't enough, Gillian thought. But it would have to do. She wanted to feel the warmth of his skin against hers so badly it hurt. She needed to feel his heart beating underneath the palm of her hand.

"Family members only right now," the doctor added. "You're not all family, are you?"

"No," Emily told him. "Just me. Me and my Mom."

Gillian looked at her in disbelief. "Emily," She cut in, desperate this time. "I_ need_ to see your Dad._"_

Wallowski stood next to her with arms crossed, giving Emily a warning glance. "Your Dad would wanna see Foster. Trust me on this one."

The doctor didn't care for any of it. "I said family only right now. Please." He looked at Gillian. "Are you his spouse?"

"No, but..."

"She's_ not_ family." Emily reiterated. "I'm his daughter and my Mom's his ex-wife."

"Em..." Zoe was the one who hesitated, eyeing Gillian before turning back to Emily. "You sure about this?" Then she looked at the doctor and tried to explain. "Maybe Cal would want to see Gillian..."

"She's not family," Emily repeated once more. Firmly. "_He_ said family only."

"Follow me please," the doctor told them and Gillian watched as they walked out of the waiting room.

"That is ridiculous," Wallowski declared, staring at Gillian. "Why did you let her get away with that? Cal didn't jump in front of Hunter Kline so he could see his ex-wife first thing when he wakes up!"

Gillian wondered if she was completely deluded in thinking that Emily would turn back. Would change her mind because even in her misguided anger she had to know how much she was dying to see her father.

"She's right," Gillian finally acknowledged when it didn't happen.

She felt defeated and on the verge of tears again. "I'm not family." It occurred to her now that she was wrong about something else. That when it came to things like this. Big important, legal things, marriage did matter. It's why people fought so hard for it. No matter how much she told herself that it was just a gold band and a piece of paper.

"No, she's not," Wallowski fumed.

"Sharon..." Gillian was too tired to argue. "_Come on_. Stop it."

"Emily will be the first one who'll regret it this."

"She's a kid who came close to losing her father tonight," Gillian pointed out. "Cut her a some slack."

Wallowski frowned and threw her arms up into the air. "She's not a kid, Gill, and she's taking this out on the wrong person. Someone's gotta let her know."

Gillian sighed and leaned back in her chair. What were they supposed to do, give Emily Lightman an on-the-spot lecture on how to properly deal with this kind of trauma? None of them were thinking clearly right now. She'd have to wait until they got back out. If she had to make nice with Zoe to get an update on Cal, so be it. Because when it came down to it, he really was the only thing that mattered right now.

* * *

><p><em>Georgetown University Hospital, ICU <em>

Everything was such a blur when he first opened his eyes and all he could make out were sounds and colours and outlines. Beeps and whirs and browns and blues and shades and hues.

Blurry silhouettes of aliens standing nearby. No, not aliens, his brain corrected him, humans, hovering around him.

It took several long moments for his brain to register what took his eyes an eternity to decipher. Two people. One tall, one short. Long wavy hair and big, beautiful brown eyes.

Zoe. Emily.

The sight of them filled him with warmth.

My girls. My family.

Cal smiled at the sight and wondered why Emily took one of his hands into both of hers. He didn't mind it though. Her skin was so soft and warm and it felt good because he was freezing.

He couldn't make out where he was or why he felt so cold and heavy, or why Emily was crying. He wanted to ask her but the words wouldn't come out.

Cal closed his eyes again, happy. Happy in the knowledge that his family was here.

* * *

><p><em>Georgetown University Hospital<em>

They couldn't have been in there for more than ten minutes but it felt like a lifetime before Zoe and Emily re-emerged from the ICU.

"How...how is he?" Gillian asked.

Emily didn't answer so she turned to Zoe.

"He's...as good as he can be. Considering," Zoe told her. "The doctor said he came through the surgery well. They've put him on a heart monitor because of what happened during the surgery and he's got a chest tube because of a collapsed lung, but he's breathing on his own. That's a good sign. They've sedated him so he can get the rest he needs."

Gillian noticed that tears were falling down Emily's cheeks again while Zoe was talking.

_Oh Emily..._

Zoe was still talking. "There were three bullets in total, one in his left thigh, another closer to his left knee and one in the chest. The third one would've... killed him if they hadn't got it in the surgery."

_...would have killed him if..._

The words swam in her ears. Gillian dug her fingernails into the palm of her hands, deep enough that it hurt and snapped her mind back into focus.

"But they got it out cleanly and most importantly without any apparent damage to his heart. The heart attack during the surgery didn't help...and it'll lengthen his stay but the good thing is that his heart was strong and healthy before this happened. That should help his recovery."

"And the other bullets?"

"They weren't life threatening so all they did so far was make sure they got them out. Apparently there is some nerve and tissue damage but they won't do a full assessment until he's stronger," Zoe explained.

From the corner of her eye, Gillian saw Emily sit down. Her face a couple of notches paler than when she'd entered the room with her mother. Seeing her father in that kind of condition had to have been a shock to her system.

"It's too early to tell how it's going to affect his mobility. But he will most likely need considerable physiotherapy."

Gillian hand moved to her mouth. Nauseous. She was feeling sick again. Everything tonight was too much. "I see..."

Zoe's face softened. "It's madness, isn't it?"

Gillian nodded.

"But he's alive and recovering?," Ria Torres pointed out. Gillian had nearly forgotten that she was still here, in the room, along with Loker and Wallowski. "He took three bullets and he's alive and breathing on his own, right? It's...incredible."

"Yeah..."

A doctor came into the room and joined them, gave them more details on Cal's condition, emphasised his optimism for a possible full recovery, while reminding them that the next 24 hours were the most critical and they'd need patience more than anything.

That they should start by going home and getting some rest of their own because as of tonight there was nothing else they could do but wait until he woke up again. That if anything changed the hospital would contact them right away.

But leaving was the last thing Gillian wanted to do.

She observed Zoe as she fussed over Emily, who still looked like she was in shock. Zoe told them she was going to take her daughter home and that they'd be back first thing tomorrow.

Gillian watched as Zoe draped her suit jacket over her daughter and led her out of the hospital, arms around her slim shoulders.

Meanwhile, Ria Torres fussed over her. "Where are you going to go?" the young woman wanted to know and it was Sharon Wallowski who answered.

"She's staying with me tonight."

"I _am_? I don't think..." Gillian didn't have a chance to protest. Wallowski cut her off.

"You're hurt and your house is a crime scene. You're not going to some hotel alone tonight."

She'd planned to spend the night at Cal's house. But that's where Zoe and Emily went so that was no longer an option.

Loker gave Wallowski an approving nod. "Agreed. You're not staying alone tonight," he chimed in.

"If you don't want to stay with Sharon, you'll come home with us," Torres added.

Gillian raised a brow. _Us? _Aside from Emily's anger, were there other things she was completely oblivious to?

"I mean, with..._one_ of us," Torred added after seeing her look.

"I want to stay here," she told them. "I need to stay and know..."

"They've sedated Lightman because he needs the rest. They're going to let us know if anything changes," Loker told her. "You think for a sec he'd want you out here worrying and waiting 'til he wakes up again?"

Loker was right. Even if she hated the thought of leaving before she had the chance to let him know she was here.

"Come on," Wallowski gestured for her to follow. "You need to get some rest too. You'll be no good to Lightman if we have to admit you."

Gillian nodded. That was true too.

Not that she imagined being able to sleep tonight.


	34. Chapter 34

**Chapter 34**

_Lightman Residence, Washington DC_

For the second time tonight Zoe Landau thought her heart might stop.

The first was when she was on her way home from the airport in Chicago, sitting in a taxi and listening to the police tell her what happened to Cal. She'd felt her chest tighten then and suddenly had a hard time getting air into her lungs.

Cal shot. Three times. Rushed to the ER.

It was unfathomable.

Strong, tough, invincible Cal who walked into danger on a daily basis just for kicks. They might not be married or lovers or even close friends anymore, but there was a part of her that would always love him. A part of her that couldn't envision a world without Cal Lightman in it. Cal wasn't just her ex-husband; he was the father of her only child and that was the kind of bond that lasted a lifetime.

Emily adored him. More than anyone else in the world, Zoe included.

Although she'd never admit it aloud, Zoe used to feel jealous of that inexplicably strong bond between father and daughter and it hurt when, three years ago, they'd given sixteen-year old Emily the freedom to choose which parent she'd rather live with, and of course she'd chosen Cal. Without so much as having to give it a thought.

Zoe knew without a doubt that her daughter loved her. Emily was an old soul with a genuinely good heart. But what Emily shared with her father was bigger than that, and Zoe no longer thought to question it.

It was why that phone call from the police floored her the way it did. Because her first thoughts went to her daughter. Because Zoe knew that no one would be more devastated by the news than Emily.

_You better make it through this, Cal. Because you are not leaving Em without a Dad. Not yet. Not anytime soon. _

Zoe Landau might not be the most maternal person on the planet but when she saw her daughter hurting, it woke something in her that was usually dormant. Something that would make her do whatever she could to stop it.

_If I have to personally will you back to good health so you can walk Em down the aisle one day, I'll do it. I swear, Cal. _

Those thoughts were racing through her mind now when, with her daughter in tow, she crossed the porch of Cal's beautiful house in the rain and stuck her key into the lock of her former home. Not realizing she was close to having her second heart attack of the day.

She was too lost in her thoughts to possibly have imagined that a giant dog might come flying in her direction the moment she opened the door.

But that was exactly what happened and in response Zoe dropped her keys and did the only thing possible.

She screamed.

The dog backed off, suddenly as terrified of her as she was of...it.

"Mom," Zoe heard Emily's voice. "It's okay...look, his tail is wagging. He's not dangerous just..._excited_." It was more than she'd said on the entire way from to hospital to here.

Zoe pressed a hand to her heart only to feel it beating wildly against her palm. Surely these kinds of shocks, especially twice a day, took a few years off your life. A couple of expletives rolled off her tongue and Emily's pale face suddenly got some of its colour back.

Both the massive dog and Zoe's reaction to it seemed to have jolted Emily out of her shock.

"I think...he needs to go," Emily explained. "You know, for a walk."

Zoe nodded, watching the dog run out into the yard and pee as soon as it got the chance. "I think you're right."

She wasn't much of an animal person, especially not ones that were big enough to put their paws on her shoulder when they stood up on their hind legs. But for the moment she was grateful for the effect that the dog had on Emily.

"I'll stay outside with him for a bit," Emily offered, pulling up the hood on her windbreaker to stop from getting soaked.

"Not for long, okay?" Zoe told her, slipping out of her shoes once she was inside the house. "It's late and dark and you're exhausted." Then again Emily was also still on California time. "Did you know your father got a dog?"

Emily shook her shoulders and Zoe could see that her daughter was puzzled and distraught that she didn't. "No. I had no idea."

"Maybe it's not his, maybe he's...dog-sitting?"

Since when did Cal dog-sit?

The giant beast catapulted back onto the porch after he did his business, craving attention now. Sniffing them and checking them out from every angle. Emily petted him and her lips rose into the first hint of a smile since Zoe had seen her today.

"He's pretty cool. If Dad would get a dog, he'd get a cool dog like this one."

Zoe watched as her daughter followed him when he ran back out into the yard.

She closed the door of the house and noticed two feeding bowls on the floor. One of them empty, the other half full of water. She also saw a large bag of dog food in the closet.

Zoe grabbed it and poured some of its contents into the empty bowl.

_You're probably hungry. _

It comforted her a little, to know that the dog did seem to belong here. That it hadn't invaded Cal's house out of nowhere.

She took off her jacket, tossed it on the couch and noticed other things too. A large doggie pillow in one corner of the living room. Festive decor and a real live Christmas tree with gifts underneath.

Zoe kneeled down and looked at the to-and-from cards on the outside.

_To Em from your Dad _

_To Emily, from Gillian. _

_For Cal. love, Gillian. _

Zoe bit her lip not sure what to make of them. Last time she checked Cal and Gillian were barely on speaking terms.

Thanks to Emily, Zoe knew about the accident that caused Foster to leave Cal and the Group. And as far as Zoe knew, Gillian still hadn't gone back.

She took another look at the writing on the gift. Elegant, cursive writing.

_For Cal. love, Gillian. _

"Well, you're obviously talking to each other again..." she mumbled, getting back up.

Walking into the kitchen there were other things she noticed too. Two cups, two bowls and two spoons, sitting unwashed in the sink.

It suddenly occurred to Zoe that they were probably doing more than talking to each other.

_She's living here. _

"Wow..." Zoe took a deep breath and exhaled.

Funny enough, the revelation didn't have the effect on her that she thought it might.

Years ago she couldn't stand Gillian Foster. Hated her even, for always being able to give Cal something that she couldn't. Hated that she was the one who could calm him down when he went off the rails. Gillian Foster was his partner and confidante, when both of those roles should have been hers.

Gillian was the first person Cal confided in first when he had a shitty day. She was the one who wasn't the least bit bothered by all the million things Cal did that used to drive Zoe crazy.

Gillian Foster was calm and serene and perfect and she was Cal Lightman's rock. The one who always caught him when he fell down.

It was maddening.

Or at least it used be, when one glance between them could make Zoe irrationally jealous and result in a heated argument with her husband that would last all night.

Funny. How Gillian, who used to be capable of eliciting all sorts of wild emotions from her with a single glance, didn't make her feel the slightest anger now. Maybe it was because she was no longer in love with Cal. Or maybe it was because everything around her; the gifts on the floor, the dishes in the sink, the dog in the yard, were finally making this house feel like a home again and Zoe still loved Cal enough to want that for him and even more so for Emily.

_I do want you to be happy and I don't doubt for a second that she'll make you happy. _

Most of all, it didn't surprise her. Maybe that was what softened the blow.

Zoe had always been more aware of Cal's feelings for his partner than he was. There were days when it was obvious to everyone but the two of them.

In hindsight, the way she used to react to Gillian's presence in their lives made her cringe now. Zoe knew now that Gillian Foster wasn't perfect. Knew that she had days when she was just as pissed off at Cal as the rest of the world.

And she also knew now that the demise of her marriage had nothing to do with Gillian, no matter how much she used to like telling herself that it did.

The two of them would have self-combusted with or without the presence of his business partner.

Zoe's cell phone rang and her heart did another leap, fearing it was the hospital calling and relaxing when she saw it was her husband's number.

"Hi sweetheart. Yeah...it's rough. We're holding up okay. I'm at Cal's place now. Gonna stay here for a few days probably. No, no...it's okay. _I'll _be okay." Zoe exhaled. She loved Rudi, as much as she did the day he popped the question. She _did_ want to take him up on his offer to come here and be with them, but she knew it wasn't fair. Neither to Emily, who was still getting used to her new husband, or to Javier, her ten-year old step-son who needed his father around at Christmas. "Of course. I'll keep you posted. Love you too," she said softly.

After the call, she went up the stairs, needing to confirm her suspicions. Opening the door to the master bedroom and seeing the evidence all over the place. The unmade king-size bed where both pillows had obviously been slept on. The romance novel and reading glasses on the nightstand. And the clincher, the purple negligee lying on one side of the bed.

Zoe picked it up and held it in her hand, surprised she didn't feel the least bit bitter in knowing that it had finally happened. Cal and Foster. Together. In every sense of the word. It even made her smirk.

_It's about damn time that you took the leap, Cal. You're lucky she waited for you as long as she did. _

The lace and satin negligee was as beautiful as its owner. Zoe set it back down on the bed.

"It's not you and Gillian that's shocking me," she said to no one, sitting down on the bed when she suddenly noticed how tired she was. "It's that you didn't tell anyone." Why would Cal keep this a secret? Even from Emily with whom he shared everything?

"Or maybe," she answered her own question. "You wanted to tell Em first, when she came home for the holidays."

Zoe hoped that was it. That it was nothing more complicated than that.

As if things could get any more complicated today.

She heard Emily coming back inside and forced herself to get back up. To go downstairs to join her.

The massive dog seemed to have made a new friend in her daughter, who was kneeling down next to him as he dug his snout into the freshly-filled food bowl.

"I can't believe Dad got a dog without telling us."

_You'd be surprised at what else he hasn't told us. _

Her daughter's windbreaker was soaked and Zoe helped her take it off before it dripped all over the hardwood floor.

"I wonder what his name is," Emily pondered.

_Or whether he's even Cal's dog. _

"How about some food, sweetheart?" Zoe asked her. "You must be starving. I know they don't feed you anything on those cross-country flights anymore."

"I'm not hungry. Besides, I doubt Dad has anything in the fridge."

"I know eating's the last thing on your mind right now, but I think this is going to be a long week. It'll require food," Zoe told her. "Why don't you grab a shower, change into your pyjamas and I'll order some pizza. We'll get comfortable in the living room and stay up as long you want. If you wanna talk, we'll talk. If you want to watch something mindless, we'll do that, okay?"

Emily nodded, reluctantly. "Okay..."

"Come here," Zoe pulled her into a hug and kissed the top of her head. She was still barely 5'2. When it came to height, like with so much else, Emily was all Cal. "Love you, Em."

Emily hugged her back. "I know. Love you too, Mom."

"It's going to be okay. Your Dad...he's going to be okay."

Emily didn't look entirely convinced. "I hope so, Mom. I really hope so."

* * *

><p><em>Washington DC<em>

"I'll drop you at home," Ria Torres suggested when they were stopped at a traffic light.

"Stay with me," Loker told her. "I don't want us to be alone tonight."

He could see that she was debating it. Wanted it, but at the same time didn't want it. It threw him for a loop because he wanted so badly to understand her, just like he yearned to understand all living creatures, but most of the time he failed. Especially when it came to women. Nothing was ever black or white or even logical with the female species and no matter how many degrees you got, trying to figure them out was an exercise in futility. Not that it stopped him from trying. He was stubborn that way.

"Let me drop you at your place," she repeated.

"You're upset," he told her, pressed back into his seat when she stepped down hard on the gas pedal as soon as the light changed to green. "I just wanna be with you. That's all. I'll sleep on the couch."

Ria dropped her shoulders. "It's...not that. It's not that I don't want you with me."

"Then what is it?"

"There's somewhere I wanna go tonight."

"Where?" He was getting somewhere with her. Baby steps. But it made him hopeful.

Ria exhaled. And again she hesitated. Wanting to tell him, but not wanting to at the same time.

"Where do you wanna go?" he repeated. Gently. He'd coax it out of her if need be.

"You're gonna think it's stupid."

His hand moved onto her thigh. "Try me."

"When I was a kid," Ria told him. "My sister, Ava, when she was five years old, she got really sick. Meningitis. They thought she might die."

"I didn't know."

"My Mom told me she wouldn't let that happen. She went to church and she prayed all night. On her knees, Eli!" Ria told him. "All night, while Ava was in the hospital, my Mom was kneeling in one of the pews and she prayed and the next day my sister started getting better."

"I see..." Loker bit his tongue, fighting back the urge to point out it was likely the result of whatever antibiotics or anti-virals they gave her at the hospital.

"I know you think it's stupid. Religion and everything that comes with it." Her voice faltered and Ria pulled the car over because she started crying. "But I need to do this, for Lightman. Need to do something...however useless you think it is, okay? He gave me this whole new life, this chance and..." She turned to face him. "What's left of the Lightman Group without Cal? What do we even do without him? I don't wanna think about it."

"Okay." Sometimes he really was terrible with words.

Ria wiped away her tears with a lop-sided smile. "So you see why I need to drop you at home?"

"No, you don't."

"Loker!"

"I'm coming with you."

"Look I don't..."

"I don't need to believe to wanna be with you." He gave her a loopy smile of his own. "I just wanna be with you tonight. I meant when I said it doesn't matter where."

Ria fidgeted in her seat before reaching over to grab his hand, holding on to it tightly.

He'd finally said the right thing.

"Okay."

* * *

><p><em>Washington DC <em>

They weren't far from her apartment when a couple of things suddenly occurred to Wallowski. She turned to Gillian.

"You need to pick up some of your stuff don't you?"

Wallowski had over-sized t-shirts at home that Foster could sleep in and extra essentials for houseguests. But surely there were things of her own that she'd need. Clothing for starters.

"No."

"You don't have to go into your house..." Not that she could anyway. It was a cordoned-off crime scene at the moment. "I can go in and get whatever you need me to and..."

"I don't need anything."

"Okay...do you need to pick up anything at a drugstore?"

"No."

_Tough crowd._

She _was _tough, Wallowski realized. Beneath the soft-spoken, feminine exterior Gillian Foster was a fighter.

She'd seen it at the police station months ago when Foster calmly stepped into a room with Kline and one-upped him on all his manipulations. And she'd seen it tonight too, from the ghastly marks that Gillian's fingernails had left on Kline's face to the police interview after the attack, where she composed herself enough to tell them exactly what happened, in spite of how shook up she was.

It was why Cal loved her so much.

Because he knew she was one of the few people in the world strong enough to handle all of him. In Gillian Foster he'd somehow managed to find his equal.

Wallowski stole a sideways glance at her passenger. Right now Foster looked uncomfortable, in every sense of the word. Like she wanted to jump out of the car first and then crawl out of her skin.

For the first time since getting into her car, Foster turned around to look at her. Apologetic. "Sharon..."

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry. You deserve better from me after everything you did tonight. Everything you're_ still_ doing."

Wallowski leaned back in her seat before starting the car. "You wouldn't be in this mess if it wasn't for me. You or Lightman."

"Please..."

"It's the truth."

"No." Gillian told her. "It's not. You were doing your job. You get to ask people for help when you're doing your job. Cal often asked for your help."

"Wish this was one time I didn't."

Gillian looked at her with tired eyes. Compassion was the only thing she saw on the older woman's face now. "Please don't ever think this was your fault."

As if it was that easy. "Okay."

Gillian lowered her shoulders and reclined the seat without another word. In fact, she was silent for the next few minutes, until Sharon felt Foster's hand on her arm and heard her curse under her breath. "Shit."

"What is it?"

"Moritz."

"What?"

"My dog," Gillian explained. "He's at Cal's place."

"You have a dog?"

"We have to get him."

Wallowski raised her brows. "Can we just call Zoe and let her know?"

"I don't want..." Gillian looked really uncomfortable again. "No...no we have to get him."

"Look, it's not that I don't like dogs or anything but he's probably better off there...at Cal's place. My place is kinda small."

Foster's face pleaded with her. "Can we turn around and get him? _Please?"_

Wallowski sighed. As if she would have denied Gillian anything tonight. "Yeah...yeah, of course. We'll get him."

She stopped the car and turned it around. Heading away from her apartment and back towards Cal's place.

She crossed her fingers and hoped that it was a little dog. The kind that fit into a purse.


	35. Chapter 35

Thanks to my proof-reader, GDA. :)

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 35<strong>

_Lightman Residence, Washington DC _

Emily Lightman shivered. The water coming out of the showerhead wasn't warm enough and she turned the lever to make it hotter, realizing only now that it was already at maximum heat. That even though she was still cold, the water was so hot the entire bathroom was clouded in a fog of steam.

She let it all wash over her until her skin turned red. Until her body finally warmed up.

Then she turned off the water, draped herself in a huge bath towel and sat on the rim of the bathtub, letting the remaining drops of water trail along her skin or drip down to the floor.

Her thoughts went back to the phone call she got from Gillian, because so much of what happened afterwards was nothing but a long, painful blur to her.

_"He was shot." _

_"Your Dad's tough, Emily. He's going to be fine." _

Except he wasn't going to be fine. No matter how reassuring Gillian had forced her voice to sound. As if she thought Emily wouldn't be able to hear the difference.

Emily hugged herself. Getting cold again.

She'd been cruel to Gillian at the hospital.

She'd acted like a brat who couldn't control her emotions. Part of her had wanted to call Gillian and tell her that. Wanted to apologize and let her know she hadn't meant it. Hadn't meant to hurt her. After all, she loved Gillian too. In her own right, not just because of her connection to her father.

But Emily couldn't bring herself to make the call because so much of the anger she'd unleashed on her earlier was still there.

It wasn't right. That her father was ready to die for someone who hadn't even forgiven him. It wasn't fair that he was ready to leave _her_ life so that Gillian could live.

_That_ was the part Emily couldn't reconcile with.

The notion the he loved Gillian so much he was willing to risk leaving his only daughter behind to save her.

_And you don't even love him back... _

"Stop it, stop it, stop it..." Emily started to cry. She was being irrational. She knew it. But she also knew that emotion was going to keep trumping reason tonight. Her father was impulsive. He leapt before he looked. Always did, always would. None of it was Foster's doing.

If he saw that Gillian was in danger, he'd do whatever he could to get her out of it. It was that simple. He wouldn't have thought about leaving his daughter behind in that moment.

No matter how much Emily wished he did.

She wiped away her tears.

She loved him so much. Her fierce, crazy, brilliant father. Imagining a life without him in it was something she'd never done before. Until tonight.

And now that she thought about it, she felt helpless, small and afraid.

* * *

><p><em>Washington University Hospital, Washington DC<em>

He woke up because something in his subconscious tugged at him. Relentlessly.

Nagging and tugging and pulling and telling him that something wasn't right.

Until finally, reluctantly, his eyelids fluttered open and he heard the whirring and beeping of the machines around him.

It frightened him because he had no idea what it meant. Because he had no idea where he was or how he got there. Panicked gripped him because there were parts of his body that he couldn't feel and his mouth felt like cotton; dry and disgusting and uncomfortable. Worse than the worst hang-over in the world. And he knew a thing or two about hangovers.

His eyes blinked faster. Focusing and rolling downwards, towards his body, noticing the IV lines in his arms. The plastic railings on the sides of his bed.

_Hospital. _

It was obvious now. That he was in a hospital.

Even his muddled brain, which was taking so much longer to register anything than he was used to, registered that much.

_Drugs. _

That was his next realization; that he was sedated. Or at least that's what they tried to do. Clearly unaware that his liberal experimentation with drugs in his younger days had built an admirable tolerance to anything with a sedative effect.

His thumb pressed a button on a tube near the railing of his bed. He hoped that would get someone to come running. If not he'd start pressing whatever other buttons he found.

Just that simple act of pressing the button and turning his head a little took so much out of him that it almost tempted him to give in to the effect of the drugs.

_Not yet. _

There were things he needed to know.

Cal groaned when he tried to move his body sideways and realized that his chest was tight and uncomfortable. That breathing was ridiculously painful and that there was something stuck in his side. A tube.

A nurse wearing blueberry-coloured scrubs entered the room. She was surprised to see him awake. He could see that, in spite of his foggy, uncooperative brain. Because reading people came as naturally to him as breathing.

_Cognition intact. Good. No brain damage. _

He saw the nurse check the monitors and the tubes he was connected to before looking at him again.

"I'm a little surprised to see you awake, Cal. Can you hear me?"

"Yeah..." he croaked. Damn his mouth was dry.

"Are you in any pain?"

"No...need to know." It's what he said. He wasn't sure that's what came out of his mouth.

"There's something you need now?" she questioned.

"Need to _know_," he repeated.

"You need to know something?"

It all came back to him now. The last few moments at Gillian's house. The expression on Hunter Kline's face just before he started firing.

Cal remembered jumping in front of him. Remembered that the sound of Gillian screaming was the last thing he heard. The memory sent chills down his spine even now. Along with a new kind of panic.

He also remembered the dream he had afterwards. Of Zoe and Emily standing here, next to him, looking down at him, their faces full of love and concern.

Except now he wondered if it really was a dream. Maybe it wasn't. Maybe they _were_ here, in the hospital to see him. But why couldn't he remember Gillian? She would have been here too.

Would have been if she was alright.

"Need to know if Gillian's okay..." It took so much damn effort to say the words, Cal felt like grabbing the nurse and somehow willing her to understand him.

"What's okay?" She looked concerned and did something with his IV. "You shouldn't be making this kind of effort. Don't push yourself and try to talk."

_For Christ's sake._

"The woman," he said it slowly, could hear his voice coming back and sounding a little less slurred. "Who was at the house, when I got shot...need to know...if she is okay."

Understanding finally dawned on the young woman's face. "The woman who was at the shooting with you? Yes, yes she's okay. She was at the hospital tonight."

Cal exhaled. Every breath felt like a stab with a knife. He wanted believe what the woman was saying. "Is she here? In the hospital?"

"No," the nurse told him. "They didn't admit her. Her injuries were minor."

_Thank god. _

Relief overwhelmed him and Cal closed his eyes, giving in to the fatigue for a moment after his panic subsided. He wondered why Gillian wasn't here then, to see him, if Zoe and Emily were. Then he decided it must've been a dream after all. Besides, it made no sense. Zoe was in Chicago. Yes. Chicago. It had been a dream then.

"You know, you really shouldn't be awake yet," the nurse told him, doing something with another one of his IVs. "This should help you fall back asleep."

He wanted to tell her not to bother. That once he'd stop fighting the effects of the drugs they'd already pumped into him, he'd drift back into oblivion.

But that would have required too much effort.

* * *

><p><em>Lightman Residence, Washington DC <em>

_Later_

Gillian knocked on the door, not surprised to see that it was Zoe who answered. Zoe who was still wearing the stylish two-piece suit she'd worn to the hospital.

"Gillian..."

Before Zoe could finish Gillian saw Moritz running towards her, pushing himself past Zoe to welcome her home, tail wagging furiously. The giant dog jumped on her and nearly knocked the wind out of her.

"Hey, big boy," she heard Zoe say. "Take it easy."

But Gillian threw her arms around him and let him lick her face on Cal's porch, not wanting to let go of him anymore than he wanted to let go of her. Even if the encounter was killing her bruised ribs. "It's okay, buddy. I love you too."

Zoe stood in the doorway watching them, until finally Moritz was done, jumping back into the house wondering why Gillian wasn't following him.

"I had a feeling he was your dog," Zoe told her. "Cal likes his dogs a little smaller. You know the kind that can sit on his lap when he's writing. Lap dogs."

The remark made Gillian smile. "You'd be surprised at how often Moritz manages to get on Cal's lap."

Zoe looked at her not saying anything.

Gillian wasn't sure what she expected from Cal's ex. Their relationship had always been one of forced civility for the sake of Cal. Although the last case they'd worked on together had served to kill most of their animosity.

She used to dislike Zoe, mostly for the effect she had on Cal's moods. And partly because Zoe liked to think Gillian had something to do with the demise of her marriage, when nothing could have been further from the truth.

But all that was a lifetime ago. For all she knew, Zoe Landau had remarried and was happy and the hold she had on Cal was long gone.

Animosity wasn't what she saw on the face of Cal's ex-wife now.

"I came to pick him up," Gillian explained. "His food is in the..."

"Gillian," Zoe cut her off. "It's late. Where are you gonna go with him?"

Gillian pointed to Wallowski's car in the driveway. "I'm going to stay with Sharon tonight."

"And then?"

It was a good question. Her own home was the last place she wanted to return to.

"You should stay here," Zoe told her. "You and the dog."

Gillian thought back to Emily's reaction at the hospital and shook her head. "No."

"This place is huge," Zoe added. "If we each take a bedroom, there's still one left for the dog. Besides...it's where Cal would want you to be. It's where you have been living lately, isn't it?"

"_How_...?" Gillian hadn't expected that. Didn't know quite how to react.

"I had a look around the house," Zoe explained. "Doesn't take a detective to figure it out."

"I..." Gillian didn't know what to say. Of course it made sense but _this_ wasn't how she wanted others to find out. Especially Cal's ex-wife.

"Look..." Zoe cut in. "I think it's great. Honestly. Cal's loved you for a long time and I had feeling you felt the same way about him. God knows you both deserve a little happiness after everything that's happened this year."

Gillian had to fight back the tears that were threatening to pool in her eyes again. What kind of happiness was Cal spending the night in intensive care after getting shot three times?

"Cal and I we never..."

"You never did anything about it while we were still married," Zoe finished for her. "I know. Should've known it then too."

Gillian nodded. "It's the truth."

Zoe crossed her arms, shivering now, while Moritz tried to wriggle himself around her, wondering why they were both still standing on the porch. "It's freezing out here. Go tell Wallowski that you're staying here. Please."

"So Emily knows too?" she questioned. "About me and her father?"

"No," Zoe told her. "I don't think she was registering much of anything when she got home. I was gonna tell her when she got out of the shower, but maybe it's better if she heard if from you. Which reminds me...why haven't you told her?"

"We wanted to tell her tonight, in person, when we picked her up at the airport."

"I thought maybe that was the case."

Gillian debated it. "If she doesn't know, then don't...just leave it. Not tonight."

"Gillian!" She was looking exasperated now. "If you don't tell her, I will! For god' sake. She's got a right to know..._especially _now."

"She's dealt with a lot tonight."

"We all have! Especially you. Gillian, _come on_," Zoe's hand reached out to hers. "She'll figure it out the minute she starts thinking clearly. There's a tree and gifts for her from you under it. If she wasn't so out of it she would have realized there's no way her father would have put up those Christmas decorations either."

Gillian debated it as Moritz slinked around her legs. She wasn't ready to have this conversation with Emily. Not after what happened at the hospital.

"I'm going to tell Wallowski that you're staying here," Zoe announced, taking charge as she was accustomed to doing.

"Zoe..."

But Cal's ex had already slipped back into her heels and was already walking down the steps to the driveway, half running to avoid the rain. Gillian should have been the one to tell Wallowski but just the thought of walking to her car and back made her wince. The painkillers they'd given her at the hospital were starting to wear off and her body was letting her know it in a big way.

She put her purse down and leaned against the doorway, still uncertain about staying here, even though she wanted to. Truth was, no matter how kind Wallowski had been to her tonight, she hated the idea of staying with her. Would've insisted on a hotel room if not for the argument it would have caused.

It was raining harder now and Zoe was nearly soaked when she ran back underneath the porch.

"I think Wallowski was a little relieved about not taking home the dog," Zoe told her, putting her arm around Gillian's shoulder as she led them both through the doors of Cal's house. "Let's get inside."

It felt like home, Gillian thought when she slipped out of her heels and saw one of her coats hanging on the rack next to the door.

Then she saw Emily standing at the foot of the stairs, her long hair wet and her thin frame wrapped up in a thick bathrobe.

"Gillian?" Cal's daughter stared at her with stunned disbelief. "What are you doing here?"


	36. Chapter 36

Thanks as always to, GDA. :)

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 36 <strong>

Lightman Residence, Washington DC

_"Gillian? What are you doing here?" _

Gillian shifted her weight a little, uncomfortable in every sense of the word. Exhaling and telling Zoe not to say anything with one wordless glance because she could see that the other woman was about to. This was hers to explain.

"Moritz," she told Emily Lightman in answer to her question. "He's my dog."

_Let's start there. _

"He is?"

The anger on the young woman's face was still there, even if it wasn't as vivid as it had been back at the hospital. Truth was, Gillian was angry too. Angry she hadn't been there when Cal woke up because of Emily's misguided resentment.

"Yeah, he is."

Silence. She'd tossed the ball back into Emily's court, daring her to draw the conclusion. The shrink in her told her to stop it, to be the adult in the room, but she was hurting too. Didn't give a damn right then.

_Screw it. Put the pieces together, Em. Without me having to spell them out for you in front of your mother. _

Because really, all she wanted was to lie down and close her eyes and pretend for a moment that tonight never happened.

"Then why is he here?"

This time she did close her eyes, patience finally running out. _Seriously, Em? _

"I've been staying here, with your father," she explained. "We've been...together these last few weeks. It's why..." she paused. "It's why he was on his way to my place tonight. We were going to pick you up from the airport together. We wanted to tell you in person."

More silence. That's what she got in return.

That and genuine surprise. That's what she saw on Emily's face now. Her lips were parted and her big, gorgeous eyes widened even further.

"So you and Dad... you're together? You're _dating_?" Emily questioned, her brows narrowing, unsure what to make of the announcement.

Gillian nodded, feeling the tears well up again. This wasn't the way it was supposed to happen. None of what happened tonight was supposed to happen the way it did. None of it.

"Em...why don't you go make us some tea?" Gillian heard Zoe's voice cutting the tension between them. "Gillian's not feeling so great right now."

Emily nodded, hugging herself as she fastened the belt on her bathrobe and left the living room. Walking towards the kitchen without another word.

"Come on." Gillian felt Zoe's hands on her shoulder. "Sit down."

Gillian dabbed at one of her tears with her thumb. It wasn't Zoe's kindness she wanted tonight. Or Wallowski's. It was Emily's. The one person she wasn't going to get it from.

"I shouldn't have stayed here," she realized out loud.

"Yes, you should. Give Em a minute to digest this, that's all. She's not herself tonight. You can't blame her for that. I _know_ she didn't mean what she said."

Gillian nodded. Of course Zoe was right. The shrink in her knew it, even if she wasn't feeling it right now.

"Why don't you sit down?"

"I just want...to take a shower. Go to bed, if you don't mind. Will you let me know if you get any calls from the hospital?"

Zoe sighed. "Of course. If there's anything else you need, you tell me."

"I will." Gillian met her eyes and let her know she meant it.

* * *

><p><em>Later <em>

It was several long minutes later, when she stood in the bathroom upstairs, clothes shed, in front of the mirror, that she understood why everyone had eyed her with a mix of shock, pity and concern all night. One side of her face was marked with the outline of a hand in red from where Kline had slapped her so hard she'd nearly passed out.

Angry humiliation reddened her other cheek.

He'd left a mark on her for the whole world to see. Even a liberal application of make-up wouldn't hide it completely.

Gillian ran her fingers along the side of her face. The colour would change and darken, and she knew it would swell up, distorting her facial features for the next few days.

It looked worse than her other bruises, at least for now. But oddly enough, it hurt the least.

Gillian's hand moved lower, just below her heart, probing gently between her ribs. Aside from a bit of swelling, there's wasn't much to indicate how much it hurt underneath, from whatever damage Hunter Kline had done by shoving his knees into her. Just the slightest pressure made her wince. _That _one would make her every movement painful for the next few days.

Turning around a little, she spotted another large bruise just under her shoulders. _That _one wasfrom when he'd shoved her into the wall. Or maybe it was from her struggle to get his gun, ending up with her pushed down to the floor.

And then she turned off the lights and fought back fresh tears in the darkness. There were more, she could feel it. But she'd seen enough.

"Stop it," Gillian whispered to herself. Several hours ago she didn't think she was going to live to see the end of the night. Now Cal was alive and all she had to contend with were a few bruises.

_It could have been so much worse._

Gillian's hands fumbled for the matchbook she knew was lying somewhere along the countertop and she lit one of the them when she found it in the darkness. Cal was the one who put three tea lights in the bathroom last week, during a bubble bath they took together. He'd jumped out of the bath dripping wet and came back to light them after she'd teased him that it was missing something.

_"In the movies there's always wine, music and candles when the couple gets into a bath together."_

_"Sounds nice." _

_"Doesn't it?" _

_"Alright, let's do it." _

And with that he'd leapt out of the bath, naked and wet and half covered in soap bubbles, splashing her face in the process.

_"I meant for next time!" _

He came back with two bottles of Corona and three tea lights that he lit with chattering teeth, before jumping back into the bath.

_"So damn cold..." _

In response, Gillian grabbed the sponge, soaked it and then squeezed it as she ran it along his chest first and then over shoulders, oozing the hot water out of it. Dipping it back into the hot water and then squeezing and pressing it against the contours of his body. Repeating the process until his goose bumps receded and his skin was warm and smooth against her fingertips again. Leaning in to kiss the back of his firm shoulders. It always surprised her a little, how lean and muscular he was, given that he never hit the gym. Maybe there was something to be said for the manic energy that never let him stand still for more than a few seconds.

_"You're an idiot," _she whispered into his ears, picking up one of the Coronas.

He'd laughed and clinked his beer bottle with hers. _"Aye, aye."_

_"And really? Beer?" _

_"You try opening a bottle of wine naked, freezing and dripping wet." _

She'd rolled her eyes and moved her sponge underneath the water, between his legs.

_"Oi!" _He grunted a little, twisting his neck as he leaned back into her. _"Hope you know what you're doing down there." _

_"No clue. Wish me luck." _

His fingers got a hold of hers, slipping between them and they guided her hands now. _"Lemme show you..." _He laughed again, taking her hands and the sponge not where she thought he'd take them, but along the inside of her thighs instead.

_"Are you blushing?" _

_"No." _

Of course she was. For reasons she couldn't explain.

After all they'd already done this past month, how could she? But the way the sponge trailed the inside of her thigh, the way he touched her...he still had that effect on her. Probably always would. Cal knew it of course and that shouldn't have surprised her but she still marvelled at it. How was it possible that he knew her so intimately? Saw as much as he did, when he wasn't even looking?

_"I love that you are," _he whispered into her ear.

Gillian leaned back too, lowering her body so that the water nearly came up to her shoulders and she listened to him tell her other things too, as he took the sponge from her hands and ran it along every intimate part of her. Lingering in slow, gentle circles whenever he sensed that she wanted him to.

It wasn't so much the things he whispered into her ears that night, but what she heard in his voice.

Love. Happiness. Desire. In all the years she'd known him, she'd never heard as much contentment in his voice as she did in the last two months.

That was the part of the memory that stuck to her now as she stared at the candles. Not the bath or the beer, or the candles or even the feel of his wet body against hers after they'd drained the bath, turned on the shower and had sex. Long, hard, intense and precariously positioned sex, that left them both exhausted and in need of another bath afterwards. A colder one this time.

What she remembered most was how the sound of Cal's voice changed when he was alone with her. Miniscule differences in timbre and inflection that only she would notice. She'd heard them before, on rare occasions, long before they were intimate, like that night in the hospital after Jenkins partner attacked her and the evening when Cal came to her house after a madman had held him hostage at the office, threatening to kill him unless she found his wife's killer. She'd heard it that afternoon at the police station too, after she'd interviewed Hunter Kline and Cal had moved into her space and helped her put on her coat.

But now she heard it all the time. His love for her.

And she couldn't imagine a world where she wouldn't be able to hear that anymore.

Part of her wanted to go to him, be with him, right now, so badly that it hurt.

_He's going to be okay. _

Gillian closed her eyes and repeated it, often enough to almost believe it.

* * *

><p><em>Lightman Residence <em>

Zoe Landau watched her daughter stare at the herbal tea in her giant Berkeley mug, unwilling to make eye contact. She looked so abjectly miserable, Zoe wished there was a way to turn back time. To go back to when her little girl was five years old. Back when Zoe knew that all she had to do to make things better was bake some bread pudding and put a Disney video in the DVD player. Lady and the Tramp. That one always did the trick.

It wouldn't do the trick tonight and that broke her heart.

The medium sized ham and cheese pizza she ordered earlier sat on the table untouched in its box.

"So Dad and Gillian are a couple," she mumbled. Zoe couldn't quite tell whether Emily was asking her or herself.

"You okay with that?"

She took her eyes off her tea and raised them to look at her. "I love Gillian."

Emily looked guilty right after she said it. As if her mother might take it the wrong way. "I mean...you know, as a friend."

Zoe reached across the table for her daughter's hand. "I know you love her. I'm glad you do because I know she loves you. Your Dad wouldn't have brought her into his life and into his home if she didn't."

Emily started to cry. "I didn't act like it tonight. I made her feel like I wished she'd been shot instead of Dad. I was so angry that it wasn't her...I wanted to punish her so I wouldn't let her see Dad at the hospital."

"Em..."

"Why didn't they tell me they were together?"

"Gillian said they were going to tell you tonight. Maybe they just wanted to tell you in person?"

Emily pondered the thought. "It shouldn't have mattered, should it? Shouldn't have made any difference. Gillian's been texting me all semester, helping me with school stuff whenever I asked her for help she did. But none of it mattered tonight."

Zoe didn't know what to say.

"Who does that?" Emily stared at her now. "And you know what? Part of me _still _wishes it was her instead of Dad! _What kind of a horrible person am I_?"

"Emily!" Zoe looked at her aghast. "Stop that! Your father almost died today. You're upset. You're allowed to be."

Emily was sobbing now. "If Dad knew he'd never forgive me."

"Oh Emily..." Zoe got up to put her arms around her daughter, wrapped her in a massive hug as her small body trembled against her. Zoe waited until she stopped, handed her a tissue when she did.

"What did I do?" Emily asked. Inconsolable.

"You made a mistake," Zoe told her. "You said some things in the heat of the moment that you didn't mean. That's all, Em. Wasn't the first and it won't be the last. But you _do _have to tell Gillian that."

"I can't."

"Yes you can."

"No, Mom, I can't..." she shook her head adamantly. "I can't and I don't want to."

"_Em_," she changed the tone of her voice, forcing her daughter to pay attention, no matter how painfully young she looked to Zoe right now. "I know you don't want to. But you're not a child anymore. You deal with your mistakes now, no matter how hard it is. Besides, if you really do love Gillian you owe her that much."

"She won't want to see me..._I_ wouldn't want to see me..."

"Em..."

"Please...Mom, not tonight. I can't!"

"Yes, you can," Zoe moved to the kitchen counter and put the kettle back on. "I'm going to make some more tea and then you're gonna bring it to her. Because she _needs_ to see you. Trust me."

Emily's upset face didn't say anything else, but she nodded in reluctant agreement, and it made Zoe proud.


	37. Chapter 37

This chapter's for anyone else whose holiday plans might've been cancelled/postponed or thwarted like mine were. Or in case you'd like something to read while you're travelling. Or just need a distraction from all the holiday stuff. My way of saying thanks for all those who are still enjoying what I write (in spite of the slow updates) and a special thanks to those who stop by and let me know it! And of course, GDA, for taking the time to edit for me and, well, everything. :)

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 37 <strong>

_Lightman residence, Washington DC _

Emily Lightman stood outside the half open door of her father's bedroom, with a cup of herbal tea in her hand, and debated. Whether to knock. Whether, at one in the morning, it wasn't too late for this. Whether her mother might've been horribly mistaken in thinking that Gillian would want to see her.

_I wouldn't want to see me if I were you. _

Those were just some of the thoughts that raced through her mind while she stood still and immobile in the hallway.

She stayed like that for some time. Until finally she stopped thinking, took a tentative step and poked her head inside the bedroom. Gillian was probably asleep by now. There really was no point to this.

It was the giant dog she spotted first, looking as though he was asleep but raising his head attentively the moment he saw movement near the door. Then the dog sat up on the bed and that made Gillian turn towards her as well. Both dog and human were awake and they both stared at her now. Giant, droopy brown eyes and weary blue ones.

Emily swallowed.

This was a _terrible_ idea.

"Emily?"

Emily stepped inside the room and set the mug of now lukewarm tea down on the bedside table. "Mom made this for you. She thought you might like something warm."

"Thanks."

Emily couldn't even look at her. Couldn't do this.

"I don't want to bother you..." she mumbled, turning around and heading back for the door, fighting the urge to run.

"Em...?"

Her legs were impossibly heavy, Emily forced herself to turn around. To look at Gillian.

"You don't have to go," Gillian told her, pushing herself up on the two pillows she'd propped up underneath her.

There was something in Gillian's voice that made a fresh batch of tears pool in her eyes. Something kind and familiar and warm. Something she was so certain she didn't deserve.

Gillian held out her hand. "Come here."

Emily didn't budge, even though she wanted to curl up next to her and that giant dog that she was already crazy about. "I don't get it, Gill. Why are you being nice to me?"

"Because I love you?"

Emily used the back of her hand to wipe away her tears before they fell. She hadn't cried this much in a long time. She must've used up a year's supply of tears tonight.

"I_ am_ pissed off at you," Gillian admitted. "If that makes you feel better."

The un-Gillian-like admission made Emily chuckle, in spite of her tears. Made her feel as though the weight of the world was slowly lifting off her shoulders. Maybe there was a chance that it_ was_ going to be okay between them and it suddenly struck her how much she needed it to be.

Emily sat down on the king-size bed after kicking off her slippers. She leaned against the headboard as she slipped her legs underneath the thick white comforter. This was where she using to come as a kid and sneak in between her mother and father. Way back when her parents were still sleeping in the same bed under this roof. It only happened a couple of times, because already then, when she was still young enough to sneak into bed with them at night, they were already at odds with each other.

Moritz tilted his head in her direction and gave her a couple of sniffs and one quick lick on the cheek, deciding it was okay for her to be here. That she wasn't going to hurt his mom.

_If you only knew how much I already did..._

"We've never let him on the bed before," Gillian explained. "But I thought I'd make an exception tonight. I needed him close by."

Emily nodded, understanding as she petted the dog.

"You know he's gonna be here every night now, right?"

Gillian smiled. "I know. Big mistake."

Emily turned towards Gillian and finally took a good look at her. Noticing the darkening bruise on the side of her face.

"He hurt you too." Emily acknowledged and it sent a fresh wave of guilt through her.

For the first time since Emily stepped into the room, Gillian avoided her gaze, staring straight ahead into the wall instead. "He tried."

_He did more than try. _

"I'm sorry, Gillian," Emily told her, finally able to get the words. "I'm so sorry for what I did at the hospital."

Gillian acknowledged the apology with a subtle nod.

The silence got to her and Emily was close to tears again. Was it ever going to stop?

Gillian gave Moritz a little shove and gestured for him to move to the foot of the bed. Then her hand reached out for Emily's, clasping it into her own. "Em...it's okay."

"It's not."

"Yeah...it is."

_It wasn't. _

"You want to tell me why you did it?" Gillian tried. "Why you didn't want me to see your father?"

"I don't know."

_Liar. _

"Emily..." Gillian squeezed her hand, forcing her to pay attention. "I want you to know that I love your father very much. I don't ever want you to think that I don't."

"I know..."

"You're not the only one who wishes he hadn't done what he did tonight..." Her voice faltered and Emily could see that she was fighting back tears too.

Emily was the one squeezing Gillian's hand now. Visions of what might've happened if her father hadn't done what he did ran through her mind.

Maybe Gillian wouldn't be here now.

Maybe she'd be dead.

Goose bumps lined her arms at the thought.

"I'm so glad you're okay," she said softly. It was the truth. Emily should have told her that hours ago. Not make her feel guilty for not being the one with three bullets in her body. "If what he did saved your life then I'm glad that he did it, Gillian."

Gillian nodded and wiped away her own tears.

Emily wasn't certain whether Gillian believed her and it tore at her. "I mean it."

"I know..." Gillian sank back into the pillows. "I'm so tired, Em."

Emily bit her lip. There was so much more she wanted to ask Gillian. How long she'd been together with her father. Why they hadn't told her? Whether she stayed here often. She wanted to know about the man who shot him. What was their connection to him?

"I took one of the pills the doctor gave me at the hospital," Gillian explained and Emily noticed the prescription container on the bedside table. "It's made really sleepy."

"You don't have to explain...I'll go..." Gillian was hurt and it was the middle of the night. Emily pushed the comforter off her legs and Moritz grumbled when she accidentally gave him a little kick.

"You don't have to go," Gillian said softly.

Emily felt like she should go. That she didn't belong in this room. This was their space now. Her father's and Gillian's. But she didn't want to leave either. Being here was the only thing that had made her feel okay since her father got shot.

She'd stay just for a little while, she decided. Until Gillian was asleep.

* * *

><p><em>Later <em>

It was four in the morning when Zoe Landau noticed that the light was still on in the master bedroom, after getting up because she couldn't sleep. She stuck her head through the half-open door only to find all three of them asleep together on the huge bed. Gillian, Emily and the bear-sized dog.

Em was lying on her stomach, half of her face squished into the pillow. It was how she slept since she was six years old. Even so, one of her hands was linked with Gillian's and it made Zoe smile. It was good to see that they were okay again. They'd need each other more than ever now.

She tip-toed into the room to turn off the lamp on Gillian's side of the bed. Noticing that Moritz's eyes were wide-open now, following her every movement.

_Please don't kill me. _

He didn't.

And Zoe left as quietly as she came.

* * *

><p><em>Georgetown University Hospital<em>

_The next day_

It took a while for his pupils to focus. To make out the blurry figure in front of him.

But when he finally did, it was well worth the wait. Worth it for the familiar smile he loved so much.

"Hi."

"Hi, luv."

"It's good to see you..._really_ good."

Her beautiful blue eyes were moist.

"If it's good...you're not supposed to cry." His voice sounded funny to his own ears. It took an insane amount of effort to croak out a whole sentence.

"I'm a cry baby, remember?"

He grinned. The stabbing pain that coursed through him every time he inhaled was worth that too. "That you are."

One of her hands moved onto his chest, fingers inching around the bandages there. "Especially when it comes to you."

Cal stared at her. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm okay."

He moved an arm to reach out to her face but stopped when it hurt too much.

"Easy..." She guided his arm back down to the bed, resting her hand there now.

"You don't look alright," he told her. Gorgeous smile aside, her face looked awful. Made him want to kill Hunter Kline all over again.

"Says the guy lying in the hospital bed with three bullet wounds."

"Three?" They hadn't told him much so far. But in fairness he'd been awake and lucid for only a few hours now. And the odd combination of soreness and numbness he felt thanks to the drugs coursing through his veins, meant he couldn't even identify a spot of focused pain that would've told him where he was hit.

"Yeah..." Gillian let go of his hand and moved to pull a chair next to this bed, sitting down slowly while he watched her. "You took one bullet to the chest and two to your leg," she explained. "The shot to the chest was the one that almost..." She exhaled. Didn't finish.

"The one that almost did me in?"

"But it didn't. In fact the doc I just spoke to says that all things considered it did minimal damage. That he expects you to heal from it completely. But you do have a collapsed lung. It's why you've got a chest tube stuck in you."

There was something else that Gillian wasn't telling him. Cal could see it but he didn't press her on it. Not now. "So, good news, yeah?"

"_Amazing_ news."

"That leaves two."

"The other two bullets hit your left leg. One in the thigh, the other just above your knee."

"Two bullets in one leg? What are the chances?"

"Pretty slim, according to Wallowski. Apparently once Kline realized it was all over he just kept firing, even as he went down. It was pure fluke that he got you twice, in nearly the same spot."

"Is he...?"

"Dead," Gillian told him. "He died at the scene."

"Good." He wasn't going to pretend, not to his own conscience and not to Foster, that he didn't think that was great news.

Gillian didn't say anything and that didn't surprise Cal. He knew her well enough to know she didn't have it in her to celebrate anyone's death.

She took a hold of his hand again and he was grateful for her touch. Unlike his, her skin felt warm and alive. "So am I gonna walk anytime soon?"

Gillian bit her lips. "The doctor told me they haven't assessed the full damage yet. They were more concerned with keeping you alive last night."

"Well, now that that's done, let's get on with it. Can't lie around here for weeks. I've got a company to run."

"_Cal_?" Gillian's brows narrowed and he saw both anger and fear in her eyes. "Don't..."

Cal exhaled and it felt as though a knife jabbed into his lungs. He was tempted to push the little button that the nurse told him he could push when the pain got too bad but he resisted. His mind was foggy enough as it was. He ran his thumb along the top of Gillian's hand and changed the subject. Maybe broaching the topic of getting out of here was a little premature. He'd give it another couple of days. "Did I tell you I dreamed Zoe was here last night?"

"She _was _here last night...she flew in from Chicago as soon as she heard the news."

"Bloody hell! Really?"

Gillian smirked. "Yeah. Really."

"She still here?"

"She's waiting outside with Emily. They thought I might want a few minutes alone with you first." She bent down to kiss him and Cal let the scent of her enter his nostrils, giving his olfactory senses a brief respite from the hospital smell that was already starting to bother him. "I took them up on it. Even thought they told us we shouldn't stress you too much. Shouldn't stay too long."

"Glad you did," he mumbled. "Love you."

Her eyes were moist again. "You know...for a while yesterday I wasn't sure whether I'd hear you say that again."

Cal wanted to put his arms around her, touch her and comfort her in ways other than with his finger tips. Because he couldn't even fathom what she went through last night. But he was hopelessly immobile right now. "Not done saying it yet. Promise."

"I'll hold you to it."

"What about the Group?" Maybe this wasn't the right time to ask, but he had to know. The Lightman Group was his lifeblood and it was hanging by a thread as it was, staying solvent only because he put in twelve hour days, six, sometimes seven, days a week.

He caught the uncertainty on her face and she didn't get a chance to answer, or chose not to, because both his daughter and ex-wife were now standing in the doorway.

He'd leave it for the time being, but the minute he was alone with Gillian, he'd ask again.

Now, more than ever, Cal needed her back at the Lightman Group.


	38. Chapter 38

The next two chapters were originally one (very) long one that I decided to chop into two. As a result this one probably feels a bit...unfinished. Which brings me to the question...do you prefer longer chapters and less frequent updates, or shorter chapters and more frequent updates? If you have any thoughts on it let me know and I might switch things around a bit.

Big thanks as always to GDA, who makes sure I don't stray too far from plausibility. :)

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 38<strong>

_Lightman Group Offices_

_Washington DC_

_One week later _

It was early in the morning when Gillian Foster opened the door and stepped into Cal Lightman's office. With a flick of her thumb, she turned on the overhead light, her eyes scanned the large, familiar room, taking a moment to let everything they saw sink in.

She had a lot of memories here. Long hours spent brainstorming with Cal when they were wrapped knee-deep in a challenging case, cementing their friendship with every moment they spent together.

Then there was the night that changed it all, when during an argument Cal banged his fist into a bookcase and sent everything crashing down around them. It left its mark on both of them and made her leave the Group.

Another time Cal came here to brood, after he'd left her sitting alone at a restaurant. She'd followed him here, because Gillian knew that's where she'd find him. Here, in his sanctuary.

She'd come to give him a piece of her mind and to tell him he was a coward. What she didn't expect was for him to tell her he loved her. To kiss her in a way that there was no mistaking that it was the truth. She'd spent the rest of night in his arms. Right here.

Then there was the day that Cal had come to visit her at the jail. A visit that ended in an argument because she'd taken on Hunter Kline as a patient without telling him.

_I came here that night too. _

_Because I knew you'd be working late. Knew I would find you here. _

This room was Cal's refuge. Even more so than his home.

Everything about this room screamed Cal Lightman's name. From the dim lighting, to the dark leather couch and hardwood floors. From the African artefacts all over the wall units to the messy desk by the window, chock full of photos of a smiling Emily.

_I came here to let you know that I wasn't going to let our last memory of that day be a fight between us. _

It was a good decision. There was no more arguing that night. Instead they made love in this room, for the very first time, while one of Cal's CDs played jazz in the background.

All those moments flashed through her mind as she quietly made her way across the room, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor. Gillian raised the blinds behind his desk to let in more light before she sat down and opened his lap-top, smirking when she typed in the password he'd given her.

It took a while for the computer to turn on, making her yawn. Even though she hadn't been up for long, she was tired. Exhausted really, from everything that had happened this week and was still happening. It was hard to sleep knowing Cal was still in the hospital, even though Moritz was curled up on the bed next to her every night now. Plus her body was still sore and the concussion was giving her headaches.

_Coffee. _

There was a tea kettle in little kitchenette inside this room, but tea wasn't what she wanted.

Gillian wondered if the espresso machine she left behind in what used to be her office was still there. Hoping Torres didn't get rid of it.

She got up, deciding it was worth checking out while Cal's old computer took its sweet time. So much for the Group's state-of-the-art technology.

Or maybe she should head down to the break-room to get some milk first, because even if Torres didn't get rid of her coffee machine, she probably never used it.

It's what she was thinking of when she stepped out into the hallway and accidentally bumped head-first into a giant man that walked right past the door at the same time as her.

For a second she forgot where she was and Gillian panicked.

She screamed.

The man grabbed her arms and she shoved him away until she realized who it was.

"Gillian," he stepped back in shock. "It's me."

Gillian put a hand over her mouth, aghast at the way she'd reacted. "Alex..."

"You okay, darling?" Her former colleague from the prison had already recovered while her heart was still pounding.

"I'm sorry. I didn't think...anyone would be here at this time." Never mind that she'd all but forgotten that Alex Almeida worked here now.

"It's okay. You don't have to apologize."

"My mind was on something else and..."

"Gillian," he cut her off. "It's _okay."_ And before he knew it, he'd pulled her into a hug. One that lasted long enough to nearly calm her frayed nerves. "You're shaking. I don't usually have that effect on women."

Gillian smiled. It was good to see him and she told him as much.

"It's so good to see you too, Gillian." He let go of her. "I tried calling you after I heard what happened. I left you a few messages"

"I haven't picked up my phone from the police station...since that night," she explained. That was on her to-do list too. Although she wasn't even sure she wanted it anymore. Hunter Kline was the last person who used it. He'd taken it to text Cal. To lure him into his trap. Gillian shivered at the memory.

"So...this, you being here, does this mean you're coming back? To the Lightman Group." There was a smile on his face as he said it.

She nodded. "I'll be taking over for Lightman while he's...recovering. It's why I came in early. To catch up. Then we'll have a staff meeting as soon as everyone gets in."

"How is Lightman doing?" he asked as they walked to the break room together.

"He's... doing as well he can, all things considered." Gillian toyed with a more honest answer, now that she was in the presence of a friend. "But it's been hard. They've switched his pain medication from an IV to oral meds. They just take the edge off, really, so he's been uncomfortable. He's not dealing well with losing his mobility and his independence. And you know, he's cranky on a good day..." She smirked. "Not the best patient in the world. I've started bringing the nurses cupcakes to get back on their good side."

Alex laughed. "You would do that."

"They're taking out the chest tube in a couple of days. If all goes well he could be home in a few days."

"Sit down," Alex gestured once they got to the break room. "I'll start brewing some coffee."

It was uncanny how comfortable she felt around him. How easy it was to talk to him. And it wasn't because he was a shrink.

"That's good news, isn't it?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "I can't drug him and force him to rest the way the hospital staff can. I know Cal. He's incapable of taking it easy while I'm running the company. And he _needs_ to take it easy, Alex. He's barely started the rehab for his leg and he needs focus on that before he can even think about coming back here. It scares me, the responsibility of trying to keep him from doing more damage to himself." There were other things that scared her too. Like the state of the Lightman Group and whether she was even capable of running it alone.

"I see." Alex held a cup under the drip until it was full. Then he put in some milk and just the right amount of sugar and handed it to her. Of course he remembered exactly how she liked it.

Gillian thanked him as she took the cup into her hands.

"Can someone help you?"

"Emily will be here another week before going back to school in California." His daughter was the only person aside from herself that Cal might actually listen to. But a week wasn't enough.

"I don't know."

"If there isn't we'll find someone," he assured her. "How are _you_ doing?"

Gillian took a sip of the coffee he made her. It was good, strong and fresh and it warmed her up. How _was _she doing? Aside from the headaches and the soreness, she was mostly scared. She had nightmares, looked over her shoulder all the time, tripled checked the locks on the door and she, who used to enjoy coming into the office early and working in solitude before the rest of the world got here, suddenly didn't feel so comfortable being alone anymore.

But_ that_ was too much honesty. It was something she wasn't ready to admit to herself, never mind anyone else.

"I'm okay," she finally answered after her second sip. "Getting there."

Alex nodded without asking her to explain. "What happened at the prison?"

"I told Penn that I was going on paid stress leave. That if he tries to fight me on it, I'd see the director and ask to launch an investigation into why he turned down my recommendation for Kline to serve out his sentence." Gillian ran an index finger along the rim of her cup. "He agreed pretty quickly."

"You should have gone ahead anyway," Alex told her, sitting down next to her with his own freshly brewed cup of coffee. "Or sued him. Bastard had no right to do what he did. Hunter Kline would still be in prison now."

"As my boss he had a right to disagree with one of my assessments."

"But not out of spite. Any psychologist going over that assessment would have agreed with you. Penn knows that."

Gillian shrugged. She wasn't out for vengeance. She did what she did for more pragmatic reasons. She needed an income while working here, because she was quite certain she wouldn't be able to draw one from the Lightman Group funds. Not for the next little while anyway. She would've felt better if the money had come directly from Doug Penn's personal bank account, but this would do.

"Then he would've been released a few weeks later." Gillian didn't have any illusions that even if he had backed her assessment Kline would've stayed in prison that much longer. "He'd still have come after us."

"You don't know that," Alex added, but then stopped when a single glance of hers told him it wasn't something she wanted to discuss. He was already getting good at reading facial cues.

"So what are _you_ doing here at the crack of dawn?"

"Learning your science. I go to the labs and do exercises, watch videos, test myself...I have a lot to learn."

"I have a feeling you're going to do okay."

"You were right when you said it's different than what I learned in Rader's course. But I love it. Every day I come here and remind myself I don't have to go through three security checks to get to a windowless office anymore. There are no murderers to assess."

"We do get those too sometimes and then you'll be my go-to guy." It made her happy that he liked it here.

Coffee in hand, Gillian got up. A glance at the clock on the wall told her she didn't have much time to get caught up before her planned staff meeting. "I'll see you in the board room at nine."

"Gillian..."

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad you came back here. And I have no problems with you bossing me around."

"Bossing you around?"

"Always had more respect for you than Dog. But I'm your friend first, I want you to know that too."

Gillian wondered what exactly he meant. "Meaning you're going to tell me what you think even if I don't want to hear it?"

Alex shrugged. "Meaning I'm going to help you even if you don't ask...but yes, that too."

Gillian nodded. "Think I can handle that."

"Okay...good."

Gillian watched him put two large Tupperware containers into the fridge.

"Not all for me," he explained. "I brought one for Torres."

"Do you always feed everyone?"

"Yes," he admitted. "If I don't, I will eat it myself. You know what? Torres doesn't know I brought this for her. You can have it."

"Are you sucking up to the boss already?"

He laughed. "Yes. Absolutely."

"Nice try."

"That's a yes then."

* * *

><p><em>Later <em>

"Jesus Christ, Cal...are you kidding me?" Gillian read the attachment that came with one of his e-mails and massaged her temples. She had a feeling that this particular headache had nothing to do with the after-effects of the concussion.

Reaching for the phone she hastily dialled the number at the bottom of the notice, biting her lips as she waited in a seemingly endless cycle of automated holds until she finally reached a live human being. "This is Dr. Gillian Foster, calling from the Lightman Group in regards to a notice you sent to my partner, Dr. Cal Lightman."

After they transferred her to someone else she went through the details of the notice, assured them she was in the process of wiring the payment _right now_ and waited until they assured her they wouldn't be shutting off the power in the building by the end of the week.

Then she went to their online account and crossed her fingers that there was enough in there to cover what she'd just wired out of it. Exhaling when she noticed an automatic deposit that was made only yesterday, courtesy of the Rotblatt contract, the only ongoing one the company had.

It's why Cal had let it come to the wire, she realized. Because he knew he wouldn't have enough funds in there until yesterday.

"We have one of the most high-tech investigative labs in the city and we were about to lose the electricity that powers it because you had six months of outstanding bills." Gillian exhaled. "_Unbelievable_."

And that was just the tip of the iceberg.

He'd handed the payroll over to Torres and that was the one thing they were still eking by on, thanks to a skeletal staff of four. Torres knew things were bad but he'd kept the full extent of it from her. From everyone.

But there were half a dozen other outstanding bills, starting with the lease which was also two months behind. He'd cancelled every non-essential service, including the security firm who monitored the hallway cameras and the surrounding perimeter, while at the same time cancelling their property insurance.

_It's madness. _

"We're sitting ducks...and if we get robbed, we lose everything."

She'd change that, Gillian decided. Before the end of the day. Even if it meant paying for it out of her own pocket. Unlike Cal, she wasn't a gambler. There were some risks she wasn't willing to take. Losing their cutting-edge equipment was one of them.

Another thought just occurred to her. One that gave her goose bumps. "Please tell me you kept the medical insurance as it was..."

Being weaned on the NHS, it was the one thing Lightman never scrimped on. He believed in his staff having the most comprehensive coverage the company could afford. But that was in its heyday, when they had the mayor on speed dial and were cutting massive profits.

Gillian breathed a sigh of relief when she found the medical insurance folder. It was one thing he hadn't cut yet. And it meant that as long as the Group stayed solvent, the bulk of his own bills would be covered.

_Thank god. _

Worst of all was the lack of new cases. There were three small ones - insurance fraud, a cheating spouse and video analyses for an insecure CEO- that Torres and Loker were currently working on. None of them were going to bring in more than a four digit income next month and they had only one contract that provided a steady monthly income. Meaning they could cover the payroll and put dents in their bills, while they kept sinking further into debt. Having Lightman tied up to work for the DC police free of charge only furthered their financial mess and Gillian suddenly wondered whether it wouldn't have been better to risk the lawsuit.

Gillian turned away from the computer, noticing that the morning sun that made a brief appearance earlier was now gone. The skies were grey and a sea of dark clouds was rolling over DC, presumably carrying the snow that the forecasters had predicted on the radio this morning on her drive here.

It was a glum view for what was about to be an equally glum staff meeting.


	39. Chapter 39

Big thanks to GDA! For well, lots of things, all the time. But in this case for proof-reading Chapter 38 part 2. :)

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 39<strong>

_Lightman Group Offices, Washington DC _

_Later _

Loker and Torres arrived at the office at the same time, at exactly 8:45 in the morning. Gillian spotted them both together as she stepped out of Cal's office and headed into the corridor to set up the board room.

_Convenient. _

"Foster?" Ria's look was one of genuine surprise. "Are you..._back_?"

"Yes," she told her. "I'm back. At least until Lightman's well enough to return to work."

"Hey, that's great," Loker chimed in.

Gillian nodded. "Thank you. Staff meeting in fifteen minutes in the boardroom. See you there."

More surprise on Torres' face. "Okay...see you there."

Gillian walked away from them, hearing Torres' whispered voice from the distance.

"Staff meeting? Really? When there's only four of us left?"

* * *

><p><em>Later <em>

Gillian Foster could read the apprehension on their faces as soon as she sat down and it served to heighten her own.

"I'm going to start this meeting by cutting to the chase." She took a deep, uneasy breath, feeling the weight of it all slowly settle on her shoulders. The future of the Lightman Group. The jobs and livelihoods of the three people in the room with her. "I'll be taking over for Lightman until he's able to return to work." She paused just long enough to give Torres the chance to ask the question they were all itching to ask.

"Do you know when that will be?"

Something in the tone of Ria's voice made Gillian feel defensive.

"No...but I can tell you it won't be before two months at the earliest. Lightman's injuries were severe. He needs to put every effort into his recovery without concerning himself with the day to day operations of this company. When he does return it will likely be in a limited capacity to start."

Now Torres was looking as glum as darkening clouds outside. "I see..."

"I had a chance to look at our figures this morning," Gillian added. "They're not good."

"I landed two new cases last week," Torres pointed out.

"They're small cases," Gillian countered. "Neither of them will take more than a week if everything goes smoothly and neither of them will net us a big pay day."

Torres' cheeks flushed.

"Don't take this the wrong way," Gillian added, softly. "I _know_ how much work you've put into this company these last few months. I know that getting us any new cases in this economy is no small feat and Lightman and I appreciate everything you've done. But the truth is, we need big cases and big contracts. We can't wait for them to come to us, we have to go out there and get them."

"We don't have the staff for big cases anymore," Loker pointed out.

"I'll be the first person to hire them when we get those cases."

"How?" Torres wanted to know. "Do we go around knocking on doors?"

"Yes. Yes, we do." Gillian pulled some hand-outs from a folder in front of her and gave them each two sheets of paper. "Those are some of the contracts that the Rader firm is handling right now. Some of them, like the FBI, are contracts that used to belong to this company."

"How did you get this info?" Loker asked.

"The Rader firm is a publicly traded company. With a bit of digging, this information is out there for anyone to see."

Gillian caught the look on Alex's face. She'd done her homework and he was impressed.

"But how does this help us? Knowing what Rader's firm is doing?"

"Because these are the kind of contracts I want us to go after. The big ones that will guarantee us a steady income, not the squabbling couples that need us to verify that their spouse are lying to them." Gillian paused. Her head was really pounding now, making it hard to concentrate. "I want us to try and win these contracts back and to look at the type of companies that are making Rader so successful and court them before Radergets them."

"The Rader firm has a staff of more than two dozen and that includes a sales and PR team," Ria reminded her.

Torres was the one who was defensive now and it wasn't what Gillian wanted. She needed them on her side. The way they used to be.

"We used to be bigger than the Rader firm," she added. "We had a name and a reputation in this city while he was the wannabe upstart and now he's by-passed us by leaps and bounds."

_Meanwhile we're struggling just to keep the electricity turned on. _

_What a mess. _

"How can we get some of that business back?" Loker asked.

She turned to Alex Almeida, whose eyes widened a little in surprise. "I know Cal hired you to take over a lot of the work that I used to do..."

"But you're back now," he finished for her. "You don't need two psychologists on staff."

Gillian bit her lip, regretting not giving him a warning back when they were in the staff lounge. "What I really need now is someone who can find us new business."

"You're firing me," there was no anger in his voice when he said, but she could hear the disappointment, no matter how hard he tried to mask it.

"No...I'm saying I need a salesman right now and if you're willing to give that a try, I'm willing to have you do it. But I know it's not what we hired you for. You came here to learn the science. I understand if this is not something you want to do...and you're right, I don't need another psychologist when we barely have any work."

"I don't know what to say..."

"You don't have to say yes or no right now. Think about it and let me know."

He nodded. "Okay."

Gillian exhaled and turned to Ria. "Torres...I'll need you to take over the Rotblatt contract from Lightman."

"_What_?" Ria shook her head. "I...I can't! Leslie Rotblatt can't stand me. I worked with Lightman on a couple of her cases and she barely tolerated me."

"I guess you'll need to win her over then."

"Look, Foster...no disrespect, but I don't think that's gonna work. She won't accept it."

"I'll talk to her."

"I don't think..."

"Ria," Gillian cut her off. "I _can't _put that contract on hold until Lightman gets back and you are the best asset this company has right now," She turned to Loker and Alex. "No offense...but I need my best asset to focus on our biggest breadwinner, because that is the one contract keeping us afloat and we cannot afford to lose it."

"What about you?"

"Sure I'm good at reading faces. But it's not my strength. I'm not a natural. I want to give Rotblatt the best we have and that's you. We can't give her any reason to dump us."

Ria Torres swallowed. "Fine."

"Loker, you'll be taking over Torres' cases and as for me, I'll be backing all of you in what you're doing. Whatever help and guidance you need, you let me know and I'll provide it. Do you have any questions?"

There was a moment of hesitation before Torres looked Gillian in the eye. "You and Lightman, are you together? I mean...outside of the company."

An embarrassed warmth rose from the base of her throat.

_You wouldn't have had the guts to ask Lightman that question. _

"Are you and Loker together?" Gillian shot back. "I mean...outside of the company?"

Torres blushed and Loker answered the question a millisecond before Ria did.

"Yes."

"No."

The two of them looked at each other and Gillian fought back a smirk. _Ouch. _

_But you deserved that. _

She would have hoped that she and Cal would've answered that question the same way.

"We're...dating," Torres added. " It doesn't change anything at work."

"Alright." Gillian shoved two pieces of paper back into her folder. "The answer to your question, is also yes. We are. And it doesn't change anything here at work either."

"We're just...nosy and happy for you," Loker offered with a lop-sided smile. A peace offering. "That's all."

Gillian acknowledged it with a nod. "Thanks." Then she turned back to Ria. "And no...I won't need my office back. I'll stay in Lightman's until he comes back." She knew that was going to be the next question.

_But the espresso machine is another matter._

"Okay."

"Will _you_ stay after Lightman gets back?" Loker asked.

It was a good question. Gillian hadn't thought that far ahead. "I don't know yet."

Judging from the look on Ria Torres' face, it wasn't the answer she wanted to hear. The notion that she was coming in, turning everything upside down and then leaving again in a few months wasn't sitting well with her.

Gillian couldn't really blame her.

"As an equity owner, I want this company to succeed." She needed to end this on a better note. "I know it's Lightman's name on the door. It's his science that built this place and I think we all know and respect that, but we've _all _poured our hearts into this company. We're all good at what we do and I want to believe we can keep it going even if Lightman isn't here to steer the ship right now. I need you to believe that too."

She saw a couple of sombre nods of acknowledgement. It was about as much as she was going to get out of them for now.

"I'll see you individually over the next couple of hours to go over the specifics in terms of your new assignments."

She heard a muffled "sounds good" from Eli Loker before they all got up and left, leaving her alone in the empty boardroom.

* * *

><p><em>Later <em>

"Go on, let it out," Eli Loker prompted her.

Ria glared at him.

"Go ahead. You're the one monitoring the cameras in here, not Foster. Turn them off."

That earned him another glare.

"Seriously, Loker?"

"It's better you take it out on me than on Foster."

"If I do...then what? She'll fire me? Like she fired poor Alex in that meeting? Here I thought they were friends. Good to know what friendship means to Foster."

"Whoa..." Loker watched her pace around the office. Like a tiger in a cage at the zoo. "That's a bit harsh, don't you think? What I heard in there was that he needed to do something different than what he was hired to do. That's all."

"Alex is a psychologist, not a salesman. He's not going to do it and it sucks..." Torres put her hands on her hips. "He's been amazing with our handful of clients. They love him."

"Foster's good with people too she doesn't need..."

"Whose side are you on?"

Loker made a face. Ria Torres could be such a handful when she was angry. Even if it did make her even more strikingly beautiful than she already was. "I'm not on anyone's side. Since when are we taking sides?"

"You know, I always thought you had a thing for her."

"_What_?" Loker looked at her incredulously. Gillian Foster was an attractive woman. There was no denying that, but put her in a room with Ria Torres and there was no contest in his mind. "That's absurd."

She smiled. That cocky smile she smiled when she thought she read something with absolute certainty. "It's true, isn't it?"

"No, it's not," he countered. "Plus, I'm not the one who couldn't even admit that we're together."

Ria stopped smiling. Contrite now. "I said we were dating, didn't I? Her question came out of nowhere...I didn't know what she expected me to say."

"The truth maybe?"

Ria threw her hands into the air. "Can you believe she wants me to work the Rotblatt contract? That woman hates me! The few times Lightman sent me to see her she treated me like the hired help!"

"If not you, then who?"

"She won't deal with anyone except Lightman! Foster has no idea what she's like, she hasn't been dealing with her for the last six months." Ria finally stopped pacing and sat down at her desk, slouching into her chair much like Lightman sometimes did. They were so alike sometimes, Cal Lightman and Ria Torres. Loker envied her fearlessness. Because he himself was anything but fearless.

"I spend half a year doing everything I can to keep this place going. I work twelve hour days, six days a week and then, from one day to the next, Foster waltzes in here and tells me it isn't good enough."

Loker leaned against the edge of her desk. "Is _that _what you heard in there?"

"Yeah..." Anger flashed from her eyes. "That's what I heard in there."

"I heard her saying that you're the best asset we've got."

Ria frowned.

"Besides, she's right isn't she? We do need more business. Desperately."

"You_ are_ on her side and it's starting to irritate me."

Loker sighed. "What's pissing you off is that Lightman gave you free reign to run this place after Foster left because he was too busy working with Rotblatt and the DCPD to do anything else and you know that's gonna change now that she's back."

"Maybe..." She mumbled in acknowledgement. "Or maybe I'm having a hard time buying that all of sudden she cares so much about this company when six months ago she left it from one day to the next and couldn't give a damn what happened to it. Maybe we wouldn't be in this mess to begin with if Foster had stuck around."

"She left because her arm got sliced open after she had an argument with Lightman! Would you have stuck around?"

Ria frowned. Petulant and annoyed. "It was an accident."

"How do you know?" Loker questioned. "You weren't there that night...you didn't see all that blood everywhere." He shuddered at the recollection.

"Lightman's crazy about her," Ria said softly. "You know that. He'd never hurt her on purpose."

Loker eyed her. Fine. He wasn't going to argue with the natural about that one.

"I know..." she added. "I get what you're saying. She had her reasons for leaving. I don't even know why I'm so angry. I like Foster. I wanted her to come back...but I want her here with Lightman. Him _and_ her. They balance each other out. It took me weeks to figure out what exactly Lightman wanted from me and now I have to figure out what _she _wants?"

"Piece of cake for you. Besides..." Loker paused. "Having Foster back's a good thing. There's no way this place will survive with both of them gone and if they're really together, she's gonna stay on after he comes back."

Ria sighed and moved her hand to play with the fabric of his jeans. "Let's just hope that when he recovers Lightman will have a company to come back to."

* * *

><p><em>Later <em>

Gillian poured three aspirin tablets into the palm of her hand and walked over to the sink that was hidden in the nook of Cal's office next to another book case and a well worn leather couch. She grabbed a glass from the cabinet and filled it up with ice cold water.

She swallowed the first two pills when suddenly a head peeked around the corner, startling her so badly she dropped the half full glass as well as the third pill.

"Oh no...Gillian," Alex Almeida bent down to pick up the glass that was miraculously still in one piece before grabbing some paper tissues to wipe up the water. "I'm so sorry. That's twice in one day."

Gillian didn't say anything. Not trusting her voice just then.

"I knocked," he explained. "Twice. But maybe you didn't hear me."

Her hands were shaking. It must have been because he knocked the second she turned on the tap.

"Hey...darling," he rubbed her arm and picked up the pill from the floor, tossing it into the sink. "You okay? You know you're only supposed to take two, right?"

"Yeah...I'm okay," she nodded. "I'm sorry...you spooked me."

"You sure?"

"Yeah," Gillian assured him, clasping her hands together to stop them from shaking. "Bad headache. That's all."

He looked worried for her. "Rough first day back?"

Rough days at the office didn't usually give her headaches. This one was courtesy of Hunter Kline. Her thoughts went back to the night he barged into her house and slammed her against the wall and then onto the floor and it made her shiver.

Not that Alex Almeida needed to know that.

"Yes," she agreed. "You could say that."

Alex pointed to Cal's leather couch. "Lie down for a bit."

"Have a nap on my first day back? That would look good."

He shrugged his shoulders with a smirk. "Close the door. I won't tell."

Gillian exhaled. "I'm okay...really."

"I think you're gonna do just fine running the place," he told her.

Gillian bit her lip. She didn't really deserve his kindness after what happened at the meeting.

"I thought about your proposal at the meeting," he told her.

"Come," she gestured over to Cal's her, _her desk_. "Let's sit down and talk about it."

He followed her across the room and plopped his massive body into one of the chairs across from her desk. "You're right when you said I didn't come here to be a salesman...I came here to learn the science."

Gillian nodded, understanding but hating it nonetheless. She selfishly didn't want to lose him even if she didn't have any work for Alex.

"Doug Penn is desperate right now. He'll take me back and I can even make some demands of my own before he does."

"As you should. Bastard doesn't deserve you."

"But honestly, Gillian, I would prefer to make lattes at a Starbucks then spend another day in that prison." He grabbed one of Cal's stress-balls off the top of his desk, toyed with it and squeezing it in his massive palms. "I meant what I said about wanting to learn this science and leaving this company won't help me do that."

"For what it's worth," she offered. "You don't have to work here to use the labs. I want you to know that."

"Thank you."

"I'll understand if you want to leave because I'm asking you to do something completely different than what you signed on for."

"Different is not a bad thing," he told her. "I would like to try it but I understand if you have to let me go and hire someone who actually knows what they're doing. I'm a good learner and I can adapt to anything...but I don't know much about sales. The last thing I want is for you to feel you need to keep me here because I'm your friend. You can fire me right now and that's not going to change. I will still be your friend."

"Alex..." She didn't know what to say.

"I mean it," he insisted and she could see he did. It was the truth. "You do what you think is best for this company. Me, I will no problem finding another job. But this is _your _company and you have to do whatever you can to save it. That has to be your first priority."

"I know..."

There was kindness in his face when he looked at her now. "I would do the same thing."

_No you wouldn't. _

He pushed his chair back and put the stress-ball back on her desk. "I will clear out my office tonight."

"Alex...stop." Gillian got up and walked around her desk, towards him. "I don't want you to go and it's not because you're my friend. If you're willing to do this, I'd love that. I trust you to have the Lightman Group's best interests more than some kid fresh out of college with a business degree."

Surprise framed his round face. "You're not lying to me?"

"Can't you tell?"

"Very funny."

"Cal always says I'm a terrible liar. If you can't tell if _I'm_ lying then you really have a lot to learn."

"You don't have to do this..."

"I mean it...you should spend some more time in the lab."

"Okay, okay..." he raised his hands. "Stop it. I get it. I'll stay, I'll do what it takes to get us new work...don't beg."

Gillian felt some of today's weight fell off her shoulders. A heartfelt smile raised her lips. "Deal."


	40. Chapter 40

This is my really long (shout out for those who preferred length over frequency), very overdue, sappy and angst-free (well, mostly. this is me after all), Christmas chapter.

As always big thanks for reading and big thanks to my awesome proofreader, GDA.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 40 <strong>

_Lightman Residence, Christmas Day _

"Ready?"

"Almost," Gillian told her, putting the final batch of cookies inside the festive tin, not the least bit disappointed when the very last one wouldn't fit. "Want half?" she offered Emily.

Emily Lightman craned her neck towards the kitchen counter where Gillian was almost done with the packaging. "No thanks. Those are so sweet. How can you eat that stuff all the time and not weigh three hundred pounds?"

Gillian chuckled as she bit into the cookie. Emily was like Cal when it came to sweets. Mostly unimpressed by them.

_Stress. That's how. _

Truth was she hadn't had much of an appetite since the shooting. Had to force herself to eat when she found time for it. So when on rare occasions something did entice her, the way this still-warm, chocolate-caramel chip graham cookie did right now, she didn't hesitate to indulge. Selfishly glad that Emily didn't want any.

Gillian could taste one of the caramel chips melting on her tongue, smooth and silky next to the crunchy graham. Sinfully delicious.

They were meant for the nurses at the hospital. Gillian figured they probably deserved a medal, a raise and a two-week vacation after taking care of Cal for a few days, but for now these cookies, made fresh less than an hour ago at the best bakery in town, would have to do.

It wasn't exactly the Christmas Gillian had envisioned a few weeks ago, the three of them opening gifts in a hospital room, but then again, a few days ago she wasn't sure whether Cal would live to see Christmas at all. Funny, how priorities changed.

"I have the gifts," Emily told her, holding up a gift bag that held all four of them. Two for Emily, one for Cal and one for her.

Moritz was sitting at her feet looking disappointed after Gillian stuffed the last of the cookie into her mouth before she grabbed the tin. "Sorry," Gillian mumbled. "That stuff isn't good for you anyway."

Emily was already outside on the porch, tying a wool scarf around her neck after she set down the gift bag.

Moritz got up and followed her down the hallway, his offended look morphing into full-on misery when he realized he wasn't going to leave the house with her either.

"We'll stop and get you a Christmas treat on the way home. Promise."

"Gillian?" She heard Emily's voice calling from outside.

Gillian stepped out into the porch and locked the door behind her. "What is it?"

Emily held out her cell phone. "It's Ria Torres for you."

One week later and she still hadn't gone to the police station to retrieve her own phone.

Gillian took Emily's phone and handed Cal's daughter her tin of cookies in exchange. Watched as she walked towards her car with them while she stayed behind on the porch to answer the call.

"Ria?"

_"I didn't want to bother you today but there's..." _There was a pause giving Gillian a second to let the barely restrained panic she heard in Ria's voice sink in. _"There's a problem." _

"What is it?"

_"It's Leslie Rotblatt...she's threatening to cut us loose. To break the contract." _

"What?"

_"I'm at her office and she gave me these juror videos to go over...and I told her there's no way I could finish them today and she said something about us making this commitment and I... I have no idea what she's talking about and then she just...she just lost it, she went off on me and started making threats..." _

"Ria...wait. Slow down." None of this was making sense to her. "What do you mean you're at her office? It's Christmas. Everyone at the Group is off today."

_"She called me this morning about the juror videos. I knew we had to finish them this week, so when she asked me to come in I thought she just wanted to change something, that it wouldn't take long. I swear Foster, there was nothing in this assignment that said it all had to be done today... I wouldn't have missed it. I know I wouldn't...I don't know what to tell her!" _

Ria was close to tears. She could hear that in her voice as well.

Gillian exhaled and balled one of her hands into a fist. Furious. _Really? Right now? Of all days? _

"Have you checked the details of this particular job? Is there anything on paper about a due date?"

_"Yes! And no!" _

"Have you shown it to her?"

_"Of course. But she insists that we made a verbal agreement. That we screwed up...but I swear, Foster. It's not true. I wouldn't make a mistake like that." _

"Ria...I believe you."

_"I think..." _Torres' voice lowered itself to a whisper. _"I think she's so pissed that Lightman isn't handling her cases anymore that she's looking for a way out of our contract. She's trying to prove we're incompetent so that'll give her an out. I'm not stupid...I can see what she's doing." _

"Is she at her office now?"

_"Of course. She's never not working." _

"Can you put me through to her?"

_"I can...but I don't think she'll pick up." _

"Let's try."

But Ria was right. The call went straight through to voicemail and Gillian called Torres back to tell her she'd stop by in person. Even if it was the absolute last thing she wanted to do right now.

Walking over to her car, she saw Emily already strapped into the passenger's seat.

"What's wrong?" Emily asked, rolling down the window.

"I have to go in to work."

"Are you kidding? _Now_? Gillian's it's Christmas! We're supposed to see Dad! You can't go into work."

"It's an emergency..." Gillian tried to explain. It really was. She didn't even want to think of the possibility of losing the Rotblatt contract. Just the thought made her stomach turn.

"It's _Christmas_," Emily repeated, as if she wasn't getting it.

"I'll drive you to the hospital on the way to her law firm. Drop you off there and then I'll join you as soon as I'm done."

Emily tried to hide her disappointment. Failing miserably. "Okay..." she mumbled.

Gillian was about to step into the car when she realized what she was wearing. Looked down at her wool turtle neck, jeans and well-worn boots.

"Are you coming?"

"No," she told her. "Not yet. I'll need ten minutes. I have to get changed."

That and grab her laptop. Just in case.

* * *

><p><em>Rotblatt and Associates, Attorneys-at-Law <em>

_Washington DC. _

Ria Torres tried to focus on the video in front of her and make use of her time while waiting for Foster to get here. But it was hard to focus when all she could think of was Leslie Rotblatt, sitting in her giant office, wilfully refusing to speak with her anymore. Deciding that she wasn't worth her time. Fuming at the notion of dealing with a former baggage screener when the only person she had the slightest ounce of respect for was Lightman himself.

Ria Torres feared the worst.

That Gillian Foster coming here was only going to antagonize Leslie even further. Most of all she feared that Foster just didn't have... what it tookto stand up to a barracuda like Leslie Rotblatt.

It wasn't meant as a dig.

Lightman needed Foster around to help soothe their clients' ruffled feathers and Foster needed Lightman around when a situation required some serious pushing back. Neither of them were terribly good at doing the things the other excelled at.

At least that's the way Ria saw it. It's why she was biting her nails now. Wishing Lightman was on his way here instead of Foster.

Because _this_ was a pushing-back kind of situation.

_Leslie's going to eat you alive. _

That was the thought that ran through her mind when the door of the boardroom opened at the other end.

Gillian Foster casually walked through it and gave her an acknowledging nod, before taking off her wool coat and setting it on one of the dozen unoccupied chairs. The two of them were the only ones in the room.

"I can't believe that half her office is staffed today," Foster pointed out, stunned. "Has anyone told Leslie its Christmas?"

"I think they value their lives too much for that."

"Where's her office?"

"Go right out the doors and walk to the end of the hallway. It's the corner penthouse suite. Has her name engraved on a gold sign outside the door. You won't be able to miss it."

Foster checked out her reflection in the window of the boardroom and smoothed her suit jacket, exhaling. "Alright. Let's do this."

Ria observed her as she headed back out of the room. Wincing.

It was like sending a lamb off to a den of lions.

"Good luck," she mumbled, doubting that Foster heard her.

_You're gonna need it._

* * *

><p><em>Georgetown University Hospital, Washington DC<em>

"Did she say why she had to go in to the office?" her father pressed.

"Not, really," Emily told him. She caught him tugging at his flimsy hospital gown when he moved an inch and it got stuck underneath his body. The movement made him uncomfortable and Emily got up to help him adjust it. He scrunched up his face and she couldn't tell whether it was because he was in pain or because he was irritated at being unable to do much of anything.

It was hard to see him like this. Hard not to let it show how much it got to her.

Emily figured he'd probably notice it anyway but that didn't stop her from trying.

One thing was certain. She didn't want him to worry about the Lightman Group. As if he needed that stress on top of everything else.

"Tell me the truth," he insisted.

"I am," she shot back. "She said she needed to see Torres. That it was important. She didn't tell me anything else." That wasn't a lie, Emily decided. Emergency. Important. Close enough. "It can't be serious if she said she'll be back here soon."

"It's Christmas, Em. She wouldn't have gone in unless the place is on the verge of falling apart."

"Dad...come on," Emily groaned. "Can we not talk about work?"

Her father reached for her hand and gave her what looked almost like a smile. He sported a five-day salt-and-pepper beard now. With a little trimming it actually made him look handsome. Or as he would insist, _more _handsome.

It calmed her down a little. His hand in hers. Because it felt warm and strong, even if he was stuck in bed and barely mobile. Even though she knew it still hurt him just to breathe, that it would as long as he had that awful chest tube stuck in his side. It would be there at least two more days. After that they'd finally start talking about letting him come home.

"Did your Mum get back to Chicago alright?"

"Yeah..." Emily nodded. Zoe left late last night, after both Emily and Gillian convinced her that they'd be fine. Insisted, really, that she go back home to spend Christmas with her new husband and stepson.

"Her and Gill survived almost a week living in the same house? Did you have to keep them on separate floors?"

Emily grinned. "No...you wouldn't believe how well they got along."

"Not believin' it."

"No, really!" This time she was telling the whole truth. "Gillian was kinda sore the first couple of days after..." She wasn't sure what to call it. The shooting? That night?

Her father's expression was serious. "She okay now? Physically?"

"Yeah...she's fine." That wasn't really a lie either. It's what Gillian told her and it was one more thing Emily didn't want him worrying about. "So yeah, Mom basically took care of everything. She cooked and..."

"Now you're lying through your teeth. I got shot in the chest, not the head, Em."

"Okay, okay...she ordered in. But her and Gillian, they'd have these long talks sometimes over cups of coffee in the morning. It was weird...but a good weird. They really got along. Mom even took Moritz out a couple of times."

"Did not!"

"Swear..." Emily pulled out her cell phone. "I have photo evidence."

"I wanna meet this Rudi, see what kind of a man he is. Going off and changing your Mum like that."

Emily smirked. "You should. I think you two might even get along! You'd love Javi. His son. He's seven. And he's crazy about fish. He told me he wants to be a marine biologist when he gets older. I'm not even sure I knew what was when I was seven."

"Sure you did. You were brilliant like your Dad." Her father's gaze lingered on her. "You've got a brother now."

"I know. That's crazy too."

"You sure you wouldn't rather be spending New Year's with them?"

"Nah..."

"Won't need a nurse when I get home."

"Yeah, you will." Her father was about to rebut but Emily wouldn't have it. "Don't even start, Dad."

"We'll have this argument in a few days," he conceded. "Wanna open your gift?"

Emily shook her head. "Let's wait 'til Gillian gets here."

"If there's an emergency she might not..."

"She'll be here," Emily cut him off. It was Christmas. What was her Dad thinking? Of course she was going to be here.

* * *

><p><em>Rotblatt and Associates, Attorneys-at-Law<em>

Ria Torres didn't expect to see both Leslie Rotblatt and Foster walk back into the board room together.

The two women ignored her and Leslie made a beeline for a stack of file folders that sat on the table.

Ria studied their faces. Could see traces of anger and frustration on both of them, but it was infinitely more obvious on Rotblatt's face. Their client was pissed off and Gillian Foster wasn't.

_This_ is not what she expected at all.

She watched Leslie sort a stack of files and put them on a different pile.

"These ones," she told Foster.

"Fine."

It was all she said before Leslie stormed out of the room in her impeccable designer suit and heels, leaving her and Foster behind in silence.

"What happened?" Ria was dying to know.

"I told her that from now any time constraints she places on any of her cases have to spelled out in writing. But that if she says she communicated to us verbally that we'd have this one done today, we'd honour her request. On good faith."

"What?" Torres raised her eyebrows. "It's not true! There was no verbal communication!"

"It's beside the point now."

"What about the fact that we can't finish this in one day! It's not possible."

"It's seventeen videos," Foster pointed out, her eyes scanning the clock on the wall. "There are almost twelve hours left in the day."

"There's no way...don't you get that?"

"_Ria_," Foster's angry gaze cut through her. "Can we get a grip, here? Please?"

Ria bit her tongue. Part of her wanted to cry. She'd been so testy and emotional lately. She wasn't sure whether it was Lightman's shooting or Foster's coming back that had triggered it. Or whether her restless irritation had started even before then. All she knew was that it wasn't like her. She hated it, but couldn't help it. They were supposed to spend Christmas together for the first time. Her and Loker and her sister Ava, who was home from her boarding school and baking cookies in her apartment at this very moment.

Instead she'd spend Christmas here. In a sterile boardroom with a boss who was pissed off at her.

It was so damn unfair. On so many levels.

"My sister's waiting for me at home..." she pointed out wanting it to sound casual but it came out petulant instead. Foster the voice expert would pick up on that in a second.

Foster sighed and then turned towards her, waiting a long moment, searching for the right words. It made her uneasy sometimes, Ria realized. Foster's habit of mentally scoping out every situation before diving in. She was much better at handling Cal Lightman's instant, explosive irritation.

"It's Christmas," Foster said softly. Gone was the anger she'd seen on her face only moments ago. "If you need to go, you should go. I understand if you have to go, Ria. Not going to hold it against you."

Torres swallowed. As if.

Of course she wouldn't go.

"But..." Foster went on. "I'd really appreciate it if you stayed. This is a big task for two of us...I don't think I'll be able to do it on my own and if we give Leslie a legitimate reason to weasel out of this contract, the Group is in big trouble."

_I'm not the one who told her we could finish this today._

That's what Ria wanted to tell her. But this time she bit her tongue.

"I'm sorry," Gillian added. "For snapping at you. None of this is your fault."

Foster meant it too. Wasn't saying it to placate her into staying.

"It's okay," Torres conceded. "Leslie...she has this way of bringing out the worst in all of us."

"I think you're right." Foster agreed.

"I'm staying."

Torres saw the relief on Foster's face. "Thank you."

Her boss grabbed a stack of folders and DVD cases and sat down across from her. Ria noticed her wince as she sat down, holding her ribs.

"Are you... okay?"

"Fine."

Ria eyed her, wondering why she even bothered to lie.

Because Foster never talked about it, it was easy to forget that Lightman wasn't the only one who was hurt a week ago. From what she'd heard through the grapevine and seen at the hospital Hunter Kline had banged up Foster pretty good before Lightman got there.

_But you never mention it. _

She was tougher than she looked and that was easy to forget too. Even though Ria should've known better. Knew that Foster had fought back against a group of delinquents in order to protect her own sister not so long ago.

_I still owe you for that. That and everything else you did for Ava. _

The memory made her anger fade and Ria started to think, reaching for her cell while Foster stuck a DVD into the player.

"I'm calling Loker," Torres told her. "Figure we can use every pair of eyes and hands we have available."

* * *

><p><em>Georgetown University Hospital <em>

It nearly six o'clock at night when Cal noticed that Emily was finally ready to give up.

When she finally, disappointedly agreed to opening the gifts, because she realized Gillian wasn't going to show up.

Truth was, no matter how much Cal wanted her to stick around, he knew he wouldn't last much longer. It took every ounce of energy he had to not let her see how much he was hurting. And how much he wanted to push the button that would send a new dose of pain medication in to his bloodstream. But it would also make him drift off, so he didn't. Not yet. Not until Emily left.

Gillian would've noticed all that but thankfully his daughter didn't.

He was a very convincing liar after all.

"Go first," he told her.

Emily wrinkled her nose. "What if I open yours first? It's not like you can stop me."

"Humour an injured man, would ya, luv?"

She ripped the wrapping off Gillian's gift, as impatient as he was. Sometimes he feared that she really did inherit too many of his traits and not enough of her mother's. Not that patience was Zoe's forte either.

"Do you know what she got me?" Emily asked.

"No," he told her. Gillian had bought it for his daughter before the two of them got together.

Cal observed her face as she opened it. Loved the micro-expressions he spotted. Genuine surprise. Delight. He'd only started to love Christmas after Emily was born. He'd barely tolerated it and all its trappings before then. But seeing his daughter's face light up when she opened her gifts was fantastic. The best gift in the world.

"Oh my god, Dad..." Emily held up a silver chain-link bracelet for him to see. There were three little pendant-like things dangling from it. He didn't know much about jewellery but judging from Emily's reaction it was something special. "How in the world did she know how much I wanted this? Did you tell her?"

Cal would've laughed at the notion if it wasn't going to send fresh waves of pain through his lungs. He was clueless when it came to stuff like this. "No."

"So how...?"

"You probably did. Gill pays attention to this stuff."

Emily held the bracelet in her hand. "Even the three charms...they're exactly the ones I wanted."

Cal noticed something else in her face this time. Something he didn't understand. Guilt.

"It's too much..." she mumbled. "I don't...I don't deserve this. Not after..." Emily stopped herself, turning to look at him, the guilt written all over her face now.

"After what?"

Emily bit her lip. "After...after this year. I already asked a lot of her. You know, helping me with school stuff. This...this is too much."

Cal wondered why she was lying to him. Letting it go because it was just one more thing he didn't have the energy for.

"Think you might have to get used to it, luv. She likes spoiling you. I think you should let her."

Emily slipped the bracelet around her wrist.

"Looks nice," Cal told her.

"It's not nice," she corrected him. "It's gorgeous."

"You gonna open mine?" he asked.

Emily nodded. "Hold on a sec..." She pulled out her cell phone and took a picture of the bracelet on her arm. Then another one.

Then she sent the picture to a friend.

It made him grin. She was more teenager than adult tonight.

And in spite of everything, it was good to know that Emily might remember this as a good Christmas.

* * *

><p><em>Leslie Rotblatt and Associates, Attorneys-at-Law <em>

When she heard the sound a second time, Gillian turned towards Eli Loker.

"What was that?"

"My stomach," he answered. "Growling."

Gillian noticed the time on the clock hanging on the wall. Nearly 8 o'clock.

Had they really been at it for over eight hours straight without so much as a bathroom break?

"Sorry," Loker added with that boyish half smirk of his that she knew so well.

"You guys must be starving," Gillian took her eyes off the laptop in front of her for the first time in what felt like hours. "Why didn't you say something?" There were only four videos left. They'd made amazing progress.

"Aren't you?" Ria questioned.

Loker reached for his cell phone lying on the table. "Let's order some pizza. They deliver on Christmas, don't they?"

Gillian got up and stretched. Not noticing until now how sore she was. Or that the slight headache she'd sported when she got here had morphed into something fiercer.

"Wait," she told Eli. "Hold off on that."

"If I don't get some food in me I'm going to start seeing double," Ria told them with a yawn. "I'm gonna notice facial expressions that aren't even there."

"Can I borrow your phone?" Gillian asked her.

Ria pushed the smart phone in her direction. "Do you need a phone number for Pizzoli's?"

Gillian grabbed the phone. "I'll let you know."

She took the phone and stepped out into the office hallway with it. Closing the door of the board where they'd been working in all day behind her.

Gillian was surprised to see that even now there were still a handful of people working in Leslie Rotblatt's offices.

She dialled directory assistance and asked for the phone number of a restaurant she knew. One thatshe and Alec had gone to on more than one Christmas day because they'd been too busy or too lazy to make their own Christmas dinner at home. Or too wrapped up in work to make it home to either of their families.

She spoke to the maitre d' and after some pleading and cajoling finally convinced him to stick four portions along with a nice bottle of wine into a taxi.

"Thank you...yes, I'll send someone downstairs with the cash. Of course."

If they couldn't have Christmas dinner at home, the least she could do was try and bring it here. Part of her wanted to order extra portions for the half dozen others she still saw in the office.

But Leslie Rotblatt would probably see that as an all-out declaration of war.

_Better not. _

Gillian searched Ria's contact list and made another call before dialling Emily's number while she was still out in the hallway. Closing her dry eyes shut for a second as it rang. Her head was pounding and she reminded herself to take something for it. So she could enjoy the meal.

Emily picked up after four rings.

_"Gillian! Where are you?" _

"Hey sweetie. I'm so sorry I didn't make it to the hospital. There was something urgent that I really needed to care of today..."

_"On Christmas Day?" _

"I know, I know..."

There were a few moments of silence until Emily told her that she should probably go home. That Cal was tired and needed to rest.

"Do you have money to take a taxi home?"

_"You can't pick me up? You're not done yet?" _

"Not yet. Do you have money on you?"

_"_Not enough for a cab home._" _

"Tell your Dad you do and take a taxi. You can pay him when you get there. There's some money in the green ceramic jar on the kitchen counter."

_"So you're not coming here at all? You're not gonna see Dad at Christmas?" _

Gillian bit her lip. The guilt really hit her now. "No."

_"Gillian?" _There was a lengthy pause on the other end.

"Yeah?"

_"I opened your gift. I love it..."_

"You did?" The thought made her happy, wishing she'd been there to see it. "Really?"

_"How did you know?" _

"We were texting about it a while back."

_"Guess Dad was right." _Gillian heard the smile in her voice.

"Speaking of your Dad...is he awake? Can I talk to him?"

_"Hang on..." _

It another few moments until she finally heard his voice on the other end.

_"Merry Christmas, luv." _

"I'm sorry, Cal...sorry I couldn't make it."

_"S'alright. Everything okay at the Group?" _

_No. _

"It is now."

_"Em loved your gift." _

"I'm glad. How are you doing?" It was a stupid question. Almost wishing she couldn't hear his discomfort as well as she could.

_"Wretched. Like I got shot three times last week." _

"Send Em home. I'll join her there soon. Get some rest. Please."

_"Love you too." _

Gillian smiled. "I mean it."

_"Me too." _

"I'll see you tomorrow. Promise."

_"I'll dream about it." _

Gillian smirked. "It's not going to be that kind of visit."

_"Blimey." _

"Love you."

_"Night luv." _

Gillian ended the call and walked back into the boardroom. Loker gave her a disappointed look.

"You didn't even ask what we wanted on our pizza."

"It's Christmas, Eli. We're not having pizza."

"You ordered Chinese?"

Gillian sat back down. "No, I ordered us a Christmas dinner. Turkey, stuffing, potatoes, cranberry sauce, wine, the works..."

"You did?" Torres looked at her in happy, giddy disbelief.

"Should be here in forty-five minutes."

"You ordered wine?" Loker questioned. "You think Leslie will be cool with that?"

"Do you think I'm cool with us being here today?"

"Foster..." Ria was hesitant. Something she rarely was. "My sister...Ava. She's at home by herself...do you think she could..."

Gillian cut her off. "Come here? Are you crazy?"

Ria blushed. Taken aback. "I just thought..."

"Just kidding." Gillian grinned and pushed Ria's cell phone across the table. "She's on her way.

"_What?"_

"I called her already."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"My sister's on her way?"

The delight on Ria's face was priceless.

"Merry Christmas." Gillian grinned. "Can't wait to see her again myself."

Judging from the look on his face, Loker liked the idea too. "Have I mentioned how happy I am that you're back, Foster?"

* * *

><p><em>Lightman Residence, Washington DC <em>

It was nearly two in the morning when Gillian finally pulled into the driveway. She didn't expect one of the lights to still be on in the living room.

Maybe Emily had forgotten to turn it off.

She parked the car and sluggishly made her way up the steps to the front door. Surprised to see Emily still awake and reading, her legs tucked in underneath her on the couch.

Moritz came running as soon as she walked through the door, demanding her attention before she got a chance to take off her coat. Licking her face when she kneeled down to scratch the back of his ears.

"Finally," Emily told her, setting down her book on the table. "Thought I was going to have to send out a search party."

"You didn't have to wait up."

Gillian threw down her purse, computer bag and coat on the floor. Slipping out of her heels and suit jacket she plopped herself down next to her, thinking she just might stay there all night. Because the staircase leading up to the bedroom looked really daunting.

"It's okay. I'm still on California time and..." Emily crossed her legs on the sofa. "...it's Christmas." Gillian noticed that she was wearing the silver bracelet with the three gold charms.

"Actually...not anymore."

Moritz sat down on the rug next to the sofa, nestled his giant head onto it and closed his eyes. Ignoring them both.

"You look...beyond exhausted." Emily furrowed her brows. "Should I be worried about you?"

"No. You shouldn't," Gillian told her. "Tell me...how's your Dad doing?"

"He's like you. He pretends he's okay even though he's not. Thinks I don't notice."

Gillian rolled her eyes. "He loves you, that's all. Wants to protect you."

"I'm not a kid anymore, Gillian."

"I know...but that's never going to change. Even when you're forty-five. You might have to accept that and humour him."

Emily sighed before jumping off the couch to grab the Christmas gift she'd brought to hospital and back home again. "I wanted to give you this before you went to bed."

Gillian took the gift from her hands and opened it and saw a pink case underneath the wrapping. She opened the case to find a brand new smart phone inside.

"It was Dad's idea a couple of days ago, but we pitched in together. It's the latest Iphone."

"Fancy."

"You're the tech nerd in the family. Figured we better get the latest gadget to impress you."

Gillian smiled. "I'm impressed."

"He also figured if you haven't picked up your phone from the police station yet, you're never going to do it. That you probably didn't want it anymore 'cause it reminded you of...what happened."

Gillian exhaled. Amazed that in spite of everything he'd gone through this week he'd somehow noticed that. Noticed something she'd barely acknowledged to herself.

_My brilliant man. _

"The pink case was his idea too," Emily told her. "I thought you'd want something a little more professional, navy blue maybe?"

Gillian ran an index finger along it. Her initials were in the upper left corner. "No...I love it."

"The monogram was my idea. Go on," Emily prompted her. "Turn it on."

She did as Emily instructed.

"I programmed a couple of numbers into your contact list, starting with mine and Dad's."

The two numbers came up, grouped under the header "_Family_."

"I wanted you to know that..." Emily said softly. "That what I said at the hospital last week. When I said that you're not family. It's not true. You are."

"Thanks..." Gillian could feel the tears welling up at the base of her eyes, even though she didn't want to cry.

"It's true whether or not you're dating my Dad. I want you to know that too, okay?"

Gillian nodded. "Okay."

Emily exhaled. "Good. It's why I waited up. 'Cause I really wanted to give this to you tonight."

Gillian pulled her into a hug, holding onto Emily Lightman for several long moments before letting go. Not wanting to even then, when she did.

Incapable of putting into words how much it all meant to her.


	41. Chapter 41

Sorry for the delayed update and thanks for your patience! :) And big thanks as always to GDA, my sounding board.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 41 <strong>

_Lightman Residence, Washington DC_

_A few days later _

"I don't need to go, Dad."

"Yeah you do."

"I can Skype with Becky later on tonight."

"You told her you're going. Now go. Your word's gotta mean something."

"Are you trying to get rid of me?"

"Yes."

"You can barely make your own way to the bathroom."

"I'm not a toddler. I can hold off taking a piss for three hours."

Emily cringed. "Now you're just being rude..."

"Get lost, Em."

Cal watched his daughter as she finally, thankfully moved towards the door and grabbed her coat and scarf. "Call me if you need me."

"Are you still here?"

She turned her back to him and wrapped the brightly coloured wool scarf around her slender neck. "You know what? Forget that...don't call me. Call Gillian. Or 911. See if they care."

Cal grinned as he watched her leave. "Love you too, sweetheart."

She probably didn't hear him but that was okay. Wasn't like she didn't know it.

He heard her lock the door from outside and sank back into his double pillows, exhaling. Finally. Three hours of peace where he wasn't being fussed over. Three hours of not having to pretend he was anything but miserable. Three hours to eye his surroundings in silence and come up with a plan of action.

Besides, Em needed to get out of the house as much as he needed her out of it. Needed to spend a few hours watching a mindless holiday movie with her friends to get her mind on something other than fretting over him.

He'd only been home for one night.

Emily and Gillian had pushed the couch into a corner against the wall, bought a twin sized bed for him and parked it where the couch used to be, because the stairs to the bedroom were an impassable obstacle for him at the moment.

_That's the first goal, learning to climb the bloody things again, _he thought, eyeing them tiredly. After all this time he'd finally gotten Gillian Foster living under his roof and here she was sleeping on a different floor. His old mate, Terry would have a good laugh at that one.

Cal eyed the stairs again.

_Not yet. _

For now managing the trek to the bathroom and the kitchen were plenty challenging. _Everything _was challenging at the moment. Eating, breathing, turning around, trying not to punch things. Not that he could, punch much of anything at the moment.

The shot in the chest had done something to his muscles that affected his left arm. Made it hard to lift anything and next to impossible to use the crutches that were standing against the wall, within his view. For now, anyway. The docs told him that should change within a week or so as they started to heal.

Then he could begin to hobble around.

_Bloody marvellous. _

Cal scrunched his lips and bit the inside of his cheek. Frustrated.

He'd been hurt plenty of times before. The pain was something he could handle, he had a high tolerance for it, as long as he was able to distract himself. Could focus on something with a purpose.

He glanced at the pile of behavioural science journals on the living room table next to his bed.

_"You know all those articles you say you never have time to read? All the latest research you don't have time to keep up with? You have time now. Lots of it." _

That's what Gillian told him last night after she brought him the journals.

_"I'd love my laptop to go with those." _

_"Not a chance." _

_"Look, luv, appreciate you wanting me to catch up on our peers, but I'm gonna need my computer." _

_"No. Your laptop is hooked up to all the work files and you're not doing work. Not for the next couple of weeks anyway." _

He'd thrown a bit of a tantrum then, but Gillian hadn't budged. Told him he could have his laptop as soon as he was well enough to chase after her and get it. Funny. Except that it wasn't.

None of this was the least bit amusing.

His company had been hanging on by a thread for months now. Had only stayed afloat because he'd put in an insane amount of effort. The last thing it needed was him reading scientific journals in bed instead of doing whatever he could for the Group. Even that was only the tip of the iceberg. There were other things he needed to tackle, like their growing debt. The fact that they needed new business. The fact that they were behind on their lease.

As much faith as he had in her, Cal knew it wasn't feasible to think that Foster could take on all that on her own, even with Loker, Alex and Torres on her side. Not when she lacked his facial coding skills. And especially not now, when she was still reeling from what happened. No matter how much she insisted she was fine. He could read the truth on her face and some of the things he saw there lately scared him.

Being uncomfortable and in pain was one thing, being useless and immobile was something else altogether.

He knew it was the latter that was going to make it difficult to stay sane the next few weeks.

* * *

><p><em>Lightman Group Offices <em>

Gillian Foster played with the spreadsheet on the screen in front of her. Toyed with the numbers as she moved them from one line to the next. Pushed them back as far as she could and then erased a few here and there.

She was good with numbers. Good enough that she could do most of the company's accounting herself, save for some year-end number crunching that they outsourced to an accounting firm.

But no matter how good she was with numbers, she wasn't able to conjure up an income that didn't exist.

_It's not enough..._

They needed a huge cash infusion and they needed it now. In the next two months at the very latest. After that, the creditors would come knocking.

Gillian swallowed some of the lukewarm coffee from her mug. She still hadn't gotten around to getting her old espresso machine back from Torres' office.

Her finger trailed the computer keyboard as she erased another couple of numbers, startled when the sound of her desk phone ringing jarred her from her focus.

"Lightman Group," she answered. Had it really been less than two years ago when they still had a secretary?

_"Hi, Gillian. It's me, Sharon." _

"Hi...how are you?"

_"I called to let you know we've cleared your place. We took everything down." _

Gillian swallowed. "Thanks."

_"Gillian?" _

"Yeah?"

_"If you haven't been back yet, can I...make a suggestion?" _

She bit her lip, trying to sound casual. "Sure."

_"Don't go alone the first time. Take someone with you. It's not something you want to do alone. Not the first time." _

Gillian squinted in the brightness of the room. "Thanks."

Truth was she didn't appreciate Sharon Wallowski's attempts to be her new shrink. She knew the other woman meant well. But it grated on her.

She'd spent several years at the Pentagon taking care of more than her fair share of anxiety, trauma and PTSD cases. It's not like she didn't know what she was doing. Didn't know the coping mechanisms needed to deal with something like this.

_"I had the floors cleaned," _Wallowski added. _"We don't normally but I thought..." _

"Thank you." This time she meant it.

_"Look, Gillian, if you want me to come with you, let me know. Call me anytime and I'll be there." _

She swallowed again, wondering why her mouth was so dry all of a sudden and knowing already that she wouldn't take her up on her offer. "Okay."

Gillian noticed her hands were shaking after she ended the call. She angrily balled them into a fist as she turned her gaze away from the computer screen and stared out the window, taking a deep breath.

These kind of panicky reactions were the last thing she had time for right now.

Her phone rang again and she'd already decided to ignore it until she saw Alex's cell number on the call display.

Gillian picked it up. "Hi Alex."

There was a lot of background noise and she barely heard him. Something about the CIA. She knew he'd been knocking on their doors.

Knew it was a futile effort because right now they couldn't even make them a competitive offer. Never mind that Cal had burned that bridge a long time ago. But she'd somehow forgotten to tell her new colleague all that. Or she had and he'd decided to persist anyway.

"Yeah...I can be there in an hour," she finally agreed when he asked her to show up for a sales pitch, even though leaving the office in this weather was the last thing she wanted to do.

* * *

><p><em>Lightman Group Offices<em>

Eli Loker had a hard time staying away from her office.

Besides, it wasn't as though he was bogged down with work these days. In fact he had a lot of time on his hands to play around in the lab.

He used to love that. Loved every free minute he could spend in those rooms with their state-of-the-art equipment.

But lately he had a hard time focusing on animal herds when all he could think about was her. The way she looked first thing in the morning, still half asleep with her long, dark hair covering her face, the curve of her back when she was lying on her stomach, the way her eyes narrowed and darkened when she was concentrating on something, the way she moved her hips in order to get into a pair of tight jeans...

All those thoughts mingled in his brain and they put a smile on his face as he walked down the hallway to her office.

He was falling for Ria Torres. Big time. He'd spend every minute of the day with her if it was up to him.

"Hey..." he greeted her as soon as he walked through the half-open door of her office.

"Hey..." she mumbled back without looking at him.

"You wanna have lunch together?"

"Can't."

She still wasn't looking at him and now every nerve in his body was on alert. He didn't have to be a natural to know she was irritated by something. Probably him.

She hadn't spent the night at his place last night. But he'd seen her in the staff lounge this morning, eating yoghurt and she'd seemed fine then.

"What's wrong?" he probed.

"Nothing."

"Ria...come on."

She turned away from her computer. "I'm late."

"Late for what?"

_"Late." _

Eli stared at her, not understanding.

"For my period," she emphasized every word in a frustrated whisper.

Eli's heart skipped a beat. Was she really saying what he thought he was saying?

"How late?"

"A month."

"_A month?_" Eli was stunned. "Does...does this happen often?"

Ria widened her eyes. Looking at him as though he was the biggest idiot on the planet. "No. It doesn't."

"So...so you didn't notice before? I mean...before today?" None of this was making any sense to him. "You're on the pill, right? You said so." On top of that he'd used protection too. Well, except for that one time.

Ria's eyes locked with his and for once he desperately wished he could read faces with the same ease that she did.

"A lot happened these last two weeks. Between Lightman getting shot and all that."

Eli swallowed. His knees suddenly felt a little weak. "Have...have you taken a pregnancy test?"

She didn't get a chance to answer when suddenly Eli heard Gillian Foster's voice coming from the doorway.

"Is everything alright in here?"

Eli Loker spun around with lightning speed.

_Please, please, please let her not have heard that last question._

"Yeah...completely alright." He tried for a casual grin and judging from Foster's sceptical look he'd failed miserably.

"I have to leave the office for a couple of hours," she announced. "Can you take main line calls 'til I come back?"

"Sure," Ria shot back and Eli marvelled at how steady her voice was.

"I've only held the down fort for the last few months before you came back..." Ria added under her breath after Foster left. "Should be able to handle it for another couple of hours."

"You, uh...didn't answer my question," Eli pressed. He didn't give a damn about the Lightman Group right now. Or the silly power plays between Torres and Foster.

Ria Torres raised her head in his direction. "Did I take a pregnancy test? Yeah...I did."

"And?" His knees were no longer weak. They were full on shaking now.

"It was positive."

"Positive..." The word rang in his ears. Bouncing through his head like a ping-pong ball with ADD.

Positive. _Ping_. Positive. _Pong._ Positive.

Ria stared at him, calmer than she had any right to be. "Those tests...they're not that reliable. I'm going to see my doctor tonight...to make sure."

"To make sure you're pregnant?"

"Just...just to make sure, okay?" Ria shot back. Maybe calm was the wrong word. She wasn't calm. She just faked it really well.

"If...if you are, are you sure that..."

Ria's eyes locked into his. "Sure of _what_? That it's yours?"

"I didn't mean..."

This time he didn't need to be a natural to see how hurt she was.

"Just thought I might be sleeping with a few other guys while I was sleeping with you?"

"No, no, that's not..."

He couldn't remember the last time he wanted something as badly as he wanted to take back those words. Wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

Ria stood up and for a second Eli thought she might shove him out the door.

"It's not what I meant, Ria."

"_Get out!"_

She stood so close to him now that Eli could feel her breath against his skin and see that her eyes were starting to water.

"I said get out. Don't make me ask you one more time."

Eli did as she asked. Walked out the door of her office realizing he'd before never felt as horrible and incredible all at once.

* * *

><p><em>Georgetown, Washington DC <em>

The meeting with the CIA had gone well. Better by far than Gillian Foster might have imagined it would.

Not that she thought they actually stood a chance.

But it put her in a really good mood. Good enough that she decided to tackle this now, instead of heading back into the office.

It was time to stop letting this thing haunt her as much as it did. Time to stop letting it control her.

And the only way to stop it was to face it head on.

It was the kind of shock therapy they used to use. Before it was considered unethical.

Fear of elevators? Stick the patient into one and leave him there. Let his anxiety shoot through the roof until he exhausts himself completely and accepts his new environment. Until he loses the fear because, well…there was no other option.

That kind of therapy was considered too barbaric these days and she'd never think to use it on a patient. But truth was; it often worked. Those that didn't have any lingering emotional scars were usually cured.

She needed to go back into her home. Pick up her clothes. Walk through the rooms she used to love being in. Before Hunter Kline violated her space and turned it into something she feared so much she hadn't been able to set foot in it since that night.

Besides, it was better to do it now, while it was still light and bright outside, rather than after work, in the darkness of a winter evening.

Gillian took the keys out of her coat pocket and walked along the sidewalk towards the modest town house she'd purchased after her divorce. She'd loved it from the very first day. It was old and cozy and right in the heart of her favourite neighbourhood.

She quickened her steps in response to her quickening heartbeat, not used to this kind of anxiety. Every fibre of her body wanted to turn the other direction.

Gillian forced herself to walk a little faster until she stood right at her front door.

It took three tries for her to stick the keys in the lock because her hand was shaking too much.

Gillian pushed the door open and felt sick. A sudden nausea that came out of nowhere and tried to physically coerce her into turning back.

She put a hand on her stomach and fought back the bile rising in her throat, closing the door behind her.

_It's a panic reaction. That's all. It'll pass. _

_Don't fight it. _

_It'll pass. _

It was pitch dark inside after she closed the door. The police must've closed all her curtains.

_Why would you do that? _

Gillian's legs started shaking when she couldn't find the light switch soon enough.

One of her hands groped along the wall as she searched for it, trembling wildly, against her will.

It had to be there. The light switch had to be there.

_Oh my god...just turn on...please..._

But no matter where she fumbled blindly, she couldn't find the damn switch.

Air. She couldn't get any air into her lungs either. The darkness was suffocating her. She could hear the hissing of her own breath in the darkness. Hyperventilating.

_Breathe, just breathe, Gill. _

_In. Out. _

How many patients had she walked through this? She knew exactly what to do when this happened. She'd seen it happen in front of her eyes. Had patiently and expertly guided others through it.

Except she'd never imagined that it could feel this bad. That she could lose control so quickly. All of it was so overwhelming and so physical.

_Breathe. _

But how could she breathe when she couldn't even find the damn light switch?

Hot tears ran down her cheeks and Gillian blindly pounded her fists into the wall, cursing until finally she felt the switch underneath her palm and turned it on, flooding the room with light so quickly that she gasped.

She was still hyperventilating and was starting to feel a tingling at the edge of her fingers. Lightheaded.

Instead of relief, the light that flooded her hallway brought her an image of Hunter Kline standing in this same spot. Grabbing her off the floor and pushing her into the wall.

_"You're going to get Lightman to come here." _

"Go away..." Gillian closed her eyes, willing for the image to disappear.

_"You stupid, stupid bitch..." _

He didn't go away.

She was lying on the floor in the living room and he was on top off her. Pressing himself into her.

Gillian's hand was still on her stomach, the bile was in her mouth now and she knew she was going to throw up. Knew she should make a dash to the bathroom but her legs wouldn't co-operate.

_Breathe. Breathe. Breathe._

The image started to fade.

She held on to the wall as she walked along the hallway. Thinking she'd make it to the kitchen at least.

But then she saw the couch.

And it all came back with brutal clarity.

She saw see the bullets flying into him.

One.

Two.

Three.

Saw him falling to the ground in front of and dying. While she was handcuffed and unable to do a thing.

_I can't lose you, Cal. I can't. _

Gillian couldn't do it.

Couldn't take another step into the house.

Instead, she backed up. Gasping for air now as she turned around. Stumbling and nearly tripping over her own feet. Unsure how she made it outside.

How she suddenly ended up kneeling on the cement sidewalk, ripping her stockings on the ground as her palms gripped the cold stone.

* * *

><p><em>Lightman Residence, Washington DC <em>

Cal was struggling to stay awake long enough for Gillian to come back from walking the dog.

He'd barely done anything more than take a few steps, nap, watch TV, read and eat today but it had taken its toll on him. Gillian had changed the dressing on his chest and leg when she came home and now he was ridiculously, inexplicably exhausted.

Still. He'd stay awake.

Even if it killed him.

A breeze of cold air came into the living room when Gillian opened the door and Moritz catapulted inside, running to rub his wet, cold nose against Cal's hand.

"Had a good walk, buddy?" His hand stroked the dog's chin. "Meet any hot girls?"

"If you keep up this girl talk, I'm gonna have him fixed," Gillian threatened, tossing down her coat over the couch before sitting down on his bed.

Her cold hands inched under his bedcovers and rested against his good leg, sending goose bumps along it. "Bloody hell. You're freezing."

He grabbed one of her hands to stop it in its ice cold trail, noticing that her skin felt rough against the tip of his thumb. Opening her palm, Cal saw the red scratch marks all over it. Wondering why he hadn't noticed them earlier.

"What happened?"

"Sidewalks are slippery today. I fell."

Cal searched her face, unable to read much of anything. "You okay?"

"Yes. Except my pride was a little hurt." Gillian wrinkled her nose and her hand slipped out of his, moving further up, along his neck and cheeks now. "You're hot. You sure you're not running a fever?"

"I'm hot because you have the heat cranked up to maximum in here. Because I'm covered in a down comforter. Like a newborn in an incubator."

She narrowed her brows. "I'm getting the thermometer. To make sure. The doc said we're supposed to be vigilant when it comes to..."

Cal grabbed her wrist again. "Screw the thermometer."

"Cal..."

"Stay here."

Worry creased her brows. "Don't be flippant about this."

"Come on...relax. Not gonna die on you. Promise."

"Not funny." She took off her shoes and nestled into the comforter with him.

Cal was hoping she'd take off more than that.

"It is hot in here," she admitted.

"Newborns in incubators are naked."

Gillian gave him a look. "Where's Em?"

"Dunno...should be home soon. She went out earlier, came back to check on her cripple father, then she went to see another a friend. Told me not to wait up for her."

"I don't want her coming home to see us in bed together."

"S'gonna happen sooner or later, might as well get it over with."

Gillian looked at him incredulously. "Tell me you're kidding?"

He grinned, ogling her without shame. "I'm kidding."

Gillian got back up, eased out of her jeans and slipped back under his covers. He guessed that was as good as it was gonna get.

It was too small for both of them. His twin-size temporary bed. Because of it she had to nestle against him tightly in order to fit.

Cal turned sideways, ignoring the pain in his chest when he did. It was way too long since he'd been this close to her and he'd missed it like hell. It made him feel alive and awake and he desperately needed that.

"Hey..." She was lying sideways, snuggling her head into his pillow, facing him. Her nose almost touching his while one of her legs slowly and carefully entwined with his.

"You really okay?"

"I am now."

She ran a hand along his cheek, her thumb stroking the stubble on his face. "I like it. Sexy."

"That's me. Sexy."

Gillian grinned. "Very." Her hand cupped the back of his neck and she inched a little closer still in order to kiss him. He kissed her back, harder than he'd intended, because that's the effect her touch had on him. It set his skin on fire. Made him want to possess every inch of her. Like a love-starved teenager.

"Sorry..." he mumbled.

"Shhh..." Gillian put an index finger on his swollen lips, before leaning in to kiss him again, her lips and tongue meeting his eagerly.

She stopped only when she noticed that his body had twisted awkwardly into hers and started to protest.

Gillian propped herself up on one elbow and gave him a gentle push back down. "Take it easy, tiger."

"You make it hard. Literally."

She cringed.

He stared up at her, serious now as his hand reached up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. He never tired of looking into her stunning blue eyes. Loved all the things he could read in them and all the things he couldn't. The emotions were hard for her to hide but the thoughts behind them would always be a mystery and sometimes that drove him crazy. Because he wanted to know everything. All the time.

Love. Desire.

Those were only two emotions Cal could see. A third one clouded them both.

_Fear. _

"Stop reading me," she chided him. Seeing what he was doing.

"Was thinking how beautiful you are."

"You're lying."

"No. It's true. You are."

"What were you_ really_ thinking?"

"Did anything happen today? At work?"

Her blue eyes darkened, putting up a wall right in front of his eyes. "No."

"What are you afraid of?" he asked.

The truth meant the world to him but he had a feeling he wasn't going to get it tonight.

Gillian settled back down on the bed, turning her back to him.

He couldn't turn over sideways in order to spoon her but he could manage to drape an arm over her. Was able to snuggle his face into the back of her head so that her hair was touching his lips.

"Tell me," he whispered into her ear.

Her hand got a hold of his. "Nothing when I'm with you."

Cal's fingers pushed the collar of her t-shirt over her bare shoulder, kissing it in the darkness. "Alright...I'll stick around then."

"Good."

* * *

><p><em>Later<em>

"Oh my god...seriously?"

Emily Lightman stifled a giggle when she saw the two of them. Asleep and curled up against each other on the tiny twin-size bed. Her father's arm draped over Gillian, while his face nestled against the back of her neck.

"Could you two get any cuter?"

She was tempted to take a picture on her smartphone and post it on Instagram for all her friends to see.

_It would get a lot of likes._

_But they'd kill me. _

Emily decided against it just before she pressed the photo button.

Moritz slinked against her leg, yawning when she turned off the living room lights.

"Here I thought they'd be worried 'cause I'm home late..." she whispered to the dog, "At least you waited up for me."

Emily tip-toed over to his bag of dog treats and fished out a couple for him before slowly making her way up the stairs.

* * *

><p><em>Later<em>

She pushed and fought and struggled against his weight and still he was stronger.

_Get off me...get off..._

Hunter Kline's full weight bore down on her body and it was suffocating and no matter how much she struggled she couldn't get him to budge an inch.

Not that it stopped her from trying. Because she had to get away from him. Or die trying.

"Stop!"

She pressed her eyes shut and heaved with every ounce of force she possessed.

_"Gill…Stop it!" _

It was the harsh; familiar sound of his voice that jarred her awake.

Her eyes wide open now, Gillian was shocked by what she saw. Cal's face contorted in pain. One of her hands digging into the fleshy part of his upper arm while his free hand gripped her wrist.

She let go of him and put a hand over her mouth, watching him sink back into the pillow as she pushed herself off hers and distanced herself from him.

"Oh god, Cal...I'm sorry..." She barely got the words out.

He looked up at her, exhaling. Exhausted from the effort of fighting off her attack.

"I'm so sorry..." she repeated. The guilt washed over her.

"Gill...it's fine."

She threw back the covers and turned on the light. It allowed her to see the scratch marks she left on his arm. Made her want to cry.

What if she'd somehow torn the dressing off his wound?

She shouldn't have fallen asleep here. Should've known better. He wasn't strong enough for this.

"Let me get something...put some ointment..."

"Gill..." His hand reached out for her, but she inched away. "Don't bother...it's just a scratch."

"No, it's not..."

"It is." Cal looked up at her trying to get the look of shock off her face. "We've done worse damage to each other on purpose."

_Not when you have three bullet wounds on you. Not when an infection could jeopardize your recovery. _

Gillian didn't say anything. Wanting to crawl out of her skin.

Instead of anger she saw concern on his face. "You been having nightmares since the shooting?"

The light was on and he was looking at her. Lying would've been futile. "Sometimes."

"Like this?"

"No." _Not like this. _

"What'd you dream about?"

Nothing she wanted to discuss right now.

"I could've hurt you."

"But you didn't."

"I'm sorry..."

"Gill..._come on_. Stop it."

Her heart was racing. And suddenly something else occurred to her.

"Emily?"

"She came home. Saw her tip-toeing up the stairs after midnight when she thought I was sleeping."

"We should've stayed up."

"She's an adult who lives on the other side of the country now. S'alright. Still getting used to it too...but I'm getting there."

"Look...I had nightmares too," he told her. "After what happened to you in my office. They scared the hell out of me. Remember Vegas a few weeks ago?"

_Except you didn't try to clobber me in your sleep. _

Gillian was aware of what he was doing. Trying to downplay it and comfort her at the same time.

"It's normal..." Cal added, rubbing her thigh. "Don't beat yourself up over it, luv. Don't."

"I know," she acknowledged.

"Come here," he gestured. "Lie back down."

She ignored his suggestion and got up instead.

Walking to the kitchen to wet a paper towel with ice cold water and grab some antiseptic cream. Dabbing them both on the spot she'd scratched when she came back.

"Did you need a magnifying glass to see it?" he asked when she was done.

Gillian bent down to kiss him. "I'm going to go upstairs. To sleep."

"Stay here," he pleaded.

She wanted to. But she wouldn't risk. it. Not after what just happened.

"This bed's too small for both of us."

"Don't care."

"I do."

"_Please_...stay."

Gillian gave him another kiss, letting her lips linger on his forehead. "I love you."

Cal sighed. Defeated. "At least promise to come back down if you can't sleep."

"I will," Gillian agreed. Even though they both knew she wouldn't.

He watched her silhouette traipse up the stairs, followed by Moritz who decided he'd rather sleep with her.

_You and me both, buddy. _


	42. Chapter 42

Thanks once again to my proof-reader, GDA.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 42 <strong>

_Lightman Residence, Washington DC _

_One week later _

"Hold on!" Cal Lightman yelled after he heard the doorbell ring. "I'm coming."

He could use the crutches now. He got the okay after convincing his doctor that the impending loss of his sanity was more damaging to his physical health than using these could be.

One more day of being confined to watching daytime talk shows in bed and playing online poker, and he would have snapped.

"Dad?" He spotted Emily at the top of the stairs, about to come down. "Hold on. I'll get the door."

"Stay there," he ordered her. "I've got this."

Emily frowned. She stood still and watched him from behind the railing at the top of the stairs but made no move to come down.

He'd already done a couple of laps around the kitchen pantry this morning but it was still a tedious process. His left leg wasn't co-operating and his chest started feeling tight and sore as soon as he had his arms over the crutches for more than a minute. Every step was a challenge. A monumental challenge to advance a few feet without breaking a sweat.

The doorbell rang again.

"Coming!"

Thirty-seconds later he made it. Opened the door while trying to keep his balance. He stumbled a little but didn't topple over. Progress.

Cal grinned when he saw who was on the other side. "Finally got a bloody visitor."

Sharon Wallowski gave him a tentative hug in between the crutches. "No wonder you don't have any if that's how you greet them."

Emily came down the stairs and walked into the kitchen to grab some orange juice from the fridge. "Hi Sharon. It's nice of you to come by and distract Dad. I needed a break."

Cal made a face as he slowly inched back to the couch alongside Wallowski. He saw Emily racing back up the stairs. Probably to chat online with some guy who wasn't good enough for her. "Love you too," he grumbled.

Wallowski took the crutches from him and let him lean on her as he gingerly lowered himself down on the sofa. Because it required balance and coordination, this part was even harder than walking.

His breathing was heavy by the time he sat back down.

"You sure you should be walking around already?" Wallowski asked, sitting herself down next to him.

"Oh yes..." He wiped a bit of perspiration from his brow.

"Can I get you anything?"

"A pint of Guinness would be fantastic right about now."

Sharon leaned back. "I take it that's a no." She spied the prescription medications on his bedside table. "Gonna guess you're not supposed to mix alcohol with those."

"Could probably toss those if they'd let me have some a little more...organic."

Wallowski shook her head. "You're never gonna change, are you?"

"Should I?"

"Yes."

Cal grinned. It's what he liked best about her. Sharon Wallowski always gave as good as she got. Plus, he was thrilled to have her here. To have some company other than his kid fussing over him. Unlike Foster, who could happily spend the day with her nose buried in a book, he needed human interaction. Desperately. He fed off it and it energized him.

"Holy shit..."

Cal eyed her.

Wallowski pointed to Moritz sleeping next to the fireplace. "Is that Foster's dog? He's massive."

"Moritz," Cal answered, seeing the dog's eyes open in response to hearing his name. "Like to think he's our dog. We picked him up together at the pound."

"To think he almost ended up staying at my place..."

"What?"

"The night you got shot," Wallowski started then stopped herself. "Long story. Let's just say I'm glad he didn't."

"Why would he stay with you?"

"Doesn't matter." Wallowski insisted. "He didn't."

Cal nodded. Decided not to push. He'd ask Gill about that one when she got home.

"How are you doing?" Sharon probed, digging one leg into the sofa, underneath her other thigh as she turned towards him.

"Getting there," he told her. "Had to do nothing for a week to let things heal. Finally got the okay to start some serious physio next week. Threatened to do it myself if they didn't give me the okay."

"Don't push yourself..." she cautioned. "Might make things worse."

"Worse how?" he questioned. What was worse than being confined to a bed for a week straight?

"Reinjuring yourself?"

"Not gonna shoot myself. Promise."

Wallowski gave him a disapproving look. "You're impossible. How does Foster put up with you?"

Cal smirked. "She loves it."

"How's she doing?" Wallowski asked him. "She have any after effects from the concussion?"

Cal raised his brows. "Concussion?"

Wallowski bit her lip. Guilt. That's what he read on her face.

"What are you talking about?" he insisted this time.

"She didn't tell you?" Wallowski asked it casually. With a lightness in her voice that wasn't genuine. "Okay...if she didn't I assume it's 'cause she's fine."

Cal felt an uncomfortable warmth creep up his throat. He doubted that was the reason. "What exactly did Kline do to her before I got there?"

Wallowski shifted her weight a little. Uncomfortable now. "I don't think I'm the one who should go into that."

"I'm asking you."

"Cal..." She was downright squirming now.

"Gill's treating me with kid gloves. Thinks I can't handle anything."

"Maybe there's a reason for that."

"She's scared. That's a lousy reason."

"She's got a right to be. She almost lost you."

"She's got a right, sure. Still doesn't make it a good reason."

"Look..." Wallowski sighed. "What do you want me to tell you?"

"The truth?"

"It's not my place."

"Bullshit...you brought this guy into our lives and now you wanna play Switzerland?"

Wallowski's lips tightened.

That was cruel. And more than a little unfair. But Cal didn't care. He was desperate for a little honesty from someone in his life.

"What do you _think_ he did to her?" Wallowski narrowed her eyes. He saw anger now. "You saw her face at the hospital. You want me to spell it out for you?"

_Yes. _

_No. _

He didn't really want to know. But his whole life was about getting to the truth. Always would be.

"Yes."

"He broke into her house. Threatened her in order to lure you there. She struggled because she knew there was a good chance she wouldn't live to see the end of the night. She put up a real fight, Cal. She's tough. But...physically? Foster was no match for him. Kline roughed her up. Then she watched you get shot in front of her eyes. You bore the brunt of this physically...but she got the emotional end of the stick. I've seen some hardened beat cops go through less than she did in one night and end up in a really bad place. Because they pretend everything's fine when it's not."

Cal swallowed. The truth hurt sometimes. He knew that too. Never more so than right now.

Compassion lined her eyes. "I'm sorry, Cal."

He nodded without a word.

"I'm not saying she's not gonna be fine and I'm not a shrink...so what hell do I know? But maybe she should talk about it with someone. Whoever she wants that someone to be."

"Did Foster fill out a police report after it happened?"

"Yeah."

"I wanna see it."

Wallowski balked at the suggestion. "It's not for public record."

"It's a damn report about my shooting," he told her. "Think I have a right to see it."

"I think...that if you wanna know what that report says you should talk to Foster."

Cal didn't say anything. Trying hard to push back the rage that was building inside of him. "If you won't let me see it. I'll get it from the chief."

"I get that you're upset...but you're being a jerk. Foster's the last person who'd want you reading that report behind her back. If you love her as much as I think you do, keep that in mind."

Cal frowned. Maybe he didn't like Wallowski's ability to give as good as she got that much after all. Worst of all, she was right. Gillian would hate it. She'd feel betrayed.

Wallowski let him brood about it. Sitting in silence until she put her feet back on the floor. "You mind if I make myself a coffee?"

Cal shook his head. "Go for it."

He couldn't stop thinking about Kline in Foster's house. Touching her. Taunting her.

_I hate that you're dead...'cause it means I can't torment you for the rest of your life._

"Did she go back to the house yet?" Wallowski asked, several long minutes later when she joined him on the sofa again, steaming cup of java in hand.

"What?"

"I called Foster last week to tell her she could go back to her house. If she wanted to."

"She hasn't mentioned it," he confessed. Another thing she hadn't told him.

Wallowski took a sip of coffee. Blowing into the cup because it was hot. "Maybe she's not ready. Give her time, Cal."

"Yeah..."

Time.

Maybe it was time he took his head out of the sand. Did some pushing where Gillian was concerned. Before she got the impression that _this_ was alright. This misguided sense of hiding the truth from him for his own good. Or thinking that him being hurt meant he was incapable of helping her.

_I'm not Alec. _

Besides, they were more than friends and business partners now. Gone where the days where they had a line and an agreement not to cross it.

_If we're gonna make this work, you have to stop lying to me. _

"So what's next for you?"

"Have to get mobile again," he told her. "Emily leaves in a few days. Means I'll have to fetch my own food."

"They have people who can come by and help you with that stuff, you know," Wallowski pointed out. "Or maybe Foster can take some time off and..."

"If she does the company's done for."

"That bad?"

"That bad."

"Is your...heart up for dealing with _that_?"

"We'll see." Cal turned to the staircase. "Getting back up there. That's my first priority."

Wallowski smirked. "I bet."

"Then getting back to the Lightman Group."

"So you can stress yourself into a heart attack?"

"So Gill can take a break."

Wallowski eyed him. "I see."

"Look...what I said before. 'Bout you bringing Kline into our lives. Didn't mean it, Shazza. Was a tosser for saying it."

She shrugged. "It's the truth. I did bring the guy into your lives. If I could turn back the clock and change that I would."

"You asked me for help on a case...same way I asked you for help, half dozen times before that."

"I know..."

"I feel guilty for dragging Foster into it too. But it's pointless. Won't change a damn thing. So do me a favour, and don't, alright?"

"Okay."

Cal was glad he said it because he could see some tension ease from her face.

"Do you want some coffee?" she asked him.

"Nah...but some tea would be fantastic."

* * *

><p><em>Lightman Group Offices<em>

"No, no...take your time," Alex Almeida assured the nervous middle-aged woman. "We are in no hurry. Tell me one more time what you saw when your boss met this woman during his lunch break."

Judging from the expression on Eli Loker's face, who was sitting at a table in the Cube with the two of them, Gillian was afraid he might climb the walls if he had to hear the story one more time.

Gillian was sitting outside the Cube, watching all of them through its one-sided window. She wasn't too keen on hearing the story again either. The story of how the woman's boss spent his lunch hours feeding appetites other than those of his stomach.

It was the man's millionaire wife who'd hired them to see whether hubby dearest was telling her the truth about not having an affair with his secretary.

Gillian could've told her he was lying after one short interview in her office.

But if the woman wanted proof backed up by reports and expensive machines, so be it. Gillian had no qualms about milking this case for all it was worth. It would be a fraction of the alimony her client would get in return.

"Deal with it, Eli..." she mumbled to herself.

She knew he'd rather be sitting here with the monitors but she wanted to check the vocal inflections on the voice analyzer herself. It would give them something printable and she didn't entirely trust Loker to catch them all, not when she wanted to give her client the kind of air-tight proof that would make her recommend the Group to all her socialite friends.

Besides, Gillian knew the woman sitting inside the Cube was reluctant about snitching on her boss and Alex was the best person to get the truth out of her. He was a master at making people feel at ease. No one ever felt as though Alex was playing them, because he never was.

If Alex Almeida told her to take her time, it was because he meant it.

Gillian caught Eli Loker stifling a yawn.

Loker hadn't been himself these last few days. The tension between him and Ria was thick enough to cut with a knife.

So much for not letting their relationship interfere with work, Gillian thought.

If it went on a few more days, she'd pull them both aside for a talk. But for now, she was going to give them a chance to work it out themselves. Hoping it would happen soon, because she wasn't in the mood to play mediator on top of everything else. Especially since her return to the Lightman Group hadn't been as smooth as she would have liked it to be.

Part of her didn't understand Torres' defensiveness and another part of her did.

It was harder to be the good cop when there was no bad cop around.

Gillian turned her focus back to the interview in the Cube and wondered whether this was their future. Analysing the most obvious liars in the world and trying not to fall asleep while they did it.

Taking on the kinds of petty cases that would make Cal Lightman want to kick the walls in frustration.

What would happen between the two of them if he did?

Gillian had a feeling they would have just as hard a time not letting their emotions interfere with work as Torres and Loker did.

* * *

><p><em>Later <em>

"It will be deposited tomorrow," Gillian lied. She exhaled and leaned forward at her desk and straightened her back tensely as she listened to the irritated voice at the other end. "Yes...of course. But surely you can take into consideration the extenuating circumstances this company has faced these past few weeks? Dr. Lightman nearly lost his_ life_.." She added a hitch to her voice at the end and emphasized the very last word. For effect. It wasn't just lying, it was all out acting.

Cal would be impressed.

"Everyone here has been deeply affected...our day to day operations took some time to recover." Gillian paused. "The thought of losing the heart of this company...it's been hard for the Lightman Group. _Really hard_."

She heard the voice softening on the other end. Mellowing.

"Of course it'll be taken care of tomorrow. Thank you, for your understanding."

She hung up the phone and exhaled once more.

It wouldn't be taken care of tomorrow. Most likely not even by the end of this week.

_Unless Alex gets us the CIA account and they pay us up front. _

Gillian chuckled at the absurdity of that notion. She debated sending Cal to Vegas for a week once he was well enough to travel. Until the voice of reason set in and she quickly pushed that thought from her mind.

Checking the time on her new cell phone, Gillian yawned after the tension of the phone call wore off. Not being able to sleep for more than a couple of hours at a time was starting to take its toll. She was so tired. All the time.

It reminded her of motherhood. Of the two months she spent taking care of her newborn baby girl.

But there'd been so many moments of pure bliss and joy in those two exhausting months. And she wasn't responsible for keeping Lightman Group afloat back then.

_No. It's not the same. Not even close. _

Gillian blinked back tears. Even now all these years later she couldn't think of Sophie without wanting to cry. Without wanting to mount a massive legal effort to try and get her daughter back.

She brushed the irrational thoughts from her mind.

Where the heck was Torres? She should have been here twenty minutes ago so they go over a new Rotblatt assignment together.

Gillian sent her a text but there was no immediate reply. It was getting late and she wanted to go home. There was no more work left to do here and Emily was only in DC for two more nights. Gillian wanted to relish spending some more time with her, starting with dinner tonight.

Hopefully Torres' lack of a reply meant she was in the elevator on her way up.

Gillian got up and left Cal's office. Started walking down the long, empty hallway towards the restrooms, feeling uneasy as soon as she stepped outside.

Loker had dimmed the lights to conserve energy and she was the only one left in the building now. The only audible sound was the tip-tap of her high-heels with every step she took.

Her pulse quickened and her breathing got a little shallower.

Gillian wondered when it would stop. This panicky fear that gripped her whenever she walked down an empty hallway alone. The fear that someone would slam open a door and grab her. Shove her into a wall and...

Every closed door she passed in the hallway made her anxious.

Gillian focused on the bathroom sign at the end of the wall. The two little stick figures that were lit up near the ceiling. One male and one female.

_Focus on that. _

_Focus on one thing only. _

It was one of her many therapy tools for patients with anxiety. Teaching them to have an awareness of their negative thoughts without relinquishing control to them. Focus. Mindfulness. Meditation. Breathing relaxation techniques.

She was doing a lousy job of using her own tools right now, because when Gillian opened the bathroom door, she heard herself gasp, half expecting someone to jump out at her.

It didn't happen.

Instead the first thing she saw when she entered the ladies' room was Torres' purse, lying on the counter next to the mirror and sink.

Then she heard the sound of retching coming from one of the stalls.

Gillian winced. It was an awful sound. One that made her own stomach churn a little.

A toilet flushed and a few seconds later Ria Torres stumbled out of the stall, surprised to see Foster here.

Gillian did think it was possible. But Torres looked downright pale.

"You alright?" Gillian asked her. It was a silly question.

Torres turned on the sink and nodded, rinsing and splashing her face with water.

"Fine."

Gillian studied her.

Ria Torres was such a tough nut to crack sometimes. So much like Lightman in so many ways. Tough, independent, unafraid, defiant, smart.

"You don't look so fine," Gillian countered.

"I'm fine," she reiterated.

"If you're sick, Ria...take a day. Please." She hated the thought of her and Lightman having instilled the kind of work ethic that suggested otherwise.

_Just because the two of us never take a sick day, doesn't mean you shouldn't. We're not slave drivers. At least I'm not..._

"I said I'm not sick..." she told her once more, looking miserable as she said it.

"You're allowed to be."

"Just like you are?"

"This company...it's not your burden, Ria. It's mine and Lightman's."

"I didn't get that impression on Christmas day. Or the last six months that you were gone," Torres shot back.

Gillian saw Ria's face change from sudden anger and frustration to instant regret.

"I'm sorry..." she blurted out just as quickly. "That was out of line. I didn't mean that."

Gillian didn't understand any of it. Not the hostility or the guilt. "What is _going on_ with you?"

"Nothing." Ria was tight lipped but Gillian saw a world of torment written on her face.

Gillian took a step towards her, cocked her head side-ways to meet her line of sight again. "It's clearly not nothing. I can see that and you know that I can."

Ria flinched and Gillian thought she caught her fighting back tears.

"Did something happen with Leslie Rotblatt today?"

Gillian feared the worst. That they'd finally lost that damn contract and that it was time to stop treading water and give up trying to keep this company going.

"No."

"Ria?"

"I'm pregnant."

Gillian's eyes widened. _Not_ what she was expecting.

"I...I see..."

Ria Torres frowned. "Yeah...that was my reaction too."

"Loker is...?"

"The father? Yes."

Her first instinct was to congratulate her but then Gillian sensed that it was the last thing Torres wanted to hear.

"Are you...?"

"Happy about it?" Torres finished another sentence for her. She really was too much like Lightman on a good day. "I don't know."

The look on Ria's face prompted Gillian to put her arms around her and surprisingly Torres didn't hesitate to return her embrace, holding on to her tightly.

"It's alright, you know," Gillian said softly after she slowly let go. "Not having the answer to that question."

Ria brushed away a single tear that threatened to fall. "Is it?"

"Yes...it is."

"Everyone I know becomes this giddy happy person when they're pregnant. They announce it everywhere, post photos of their ultrasounds...me, I don't even know. Don't know if I want this or even if I'm gonna be any good at it if I do."

"That's okay too."

"No it's not!"

"Yeah..." Gillian knew that Ria could read every emotion on her face too and that she could also see that she wasn't spouting platitudes solely to comfort her. That she meant it. "It is. Means you're being honest, that's all."

"I feel like I don't know anything anymore...and I hate it."

"How does Eli feel?"

Ria shrugged. "We haven't talked a lot since he asked me whether it was his."

_Ah._

It all made sense now. The abject misery she'd seen on Loker's face this week. His inability to focus on anything. So it wasn't just a lover's spat.

"You haven't talked because he doesn't want to?" Gillian already suspected that wasn't the case.

"What's there to talk about?" Ria asked her. "He thinks I'm sleeping around."

"Sometimes when we get...big news like that, we have these gut reactions. They're not always reflective of how we really feel."

"Lightman would disagree with that. He'd argue that your first reaction is the most honest one."

"Lightman isn't always right."

"I guess..." Ria didn't look convinced. "I don't know anything anymore."

"Can I help?"

Ria crossed her arms. Defensive again. "Thanks...but I don't need a talk with a shrink."

Gillian raised her brows, slightly offended and letting Torres know it. "I wasn't offering my billable services. I thought maybe you could use a friend."

Ria suddenly she looked really young to Gillian and it reminded her that she was. Ria Torres _was_ still in her early twenties and that made her only a few years older than Emily Lightman.

"I'm sorry..." she whispered. "Not just for that," Ria went on. "For everything...since you came back. I've been difficult and I haven't made life easy for you."

Gillian shrugged. "You're smart, opinionated...Cal and I didn't hire you because we were hoping for easy."

"Thanks...I think," Ria acknowledged with a lop-sided smile. "But it's not an excuse. I know better and you deserve better, especially after everything you did for Ava."

"You don't owe me, Ria. Not me and not Lightman. All I want is that if something's bothering you that you're honest and you'll tell us. We spend enough time trying to figure out our clients we shouldn't have to try and figure out each other too."

"You coming back never bothered me," Ria added. "That's the truth. This company needs you. More than me."

"I don't know about that."

"I do."

Gillian bit back a smile. It was one more thing she shared with Lightman. A bull-headed certainty about most things. She figured it was a by-product of having a nearly infallible skill.

"I haven't been myself lately," Torres admitted. "It's not you. It's me. I get upset about everything and anything."

"Hormones."

"Yeah."

"How far along are you?"

"About seven weeks."

Gillian smiled. "Almost two months."

Tears pooled at the base of Ria's eyes. "I'm supposed to be happy, right? Look at you...even you're happy."

Gillian took a step towards her and put a hand on her shoulder. "There's no rule on how you're supposed to feel, sweetheart."

"Not like this."

Gillian thought about how much they needed to go over the new Rotblatt case and how much she wanted to go home to Cal and Em.

"Let's go out," Gillian told her. "Get some food. Let me know what you think you'll be able to keep down." Knowing Leslie Rotblatt, Torres wouldn't have had more than ten minutes spare time to wolf down a sandwich.

"What about the new case?"

"We'll go over it tomorrow morning."

"Don't you have plans? Doesn't Lightman need you to..."

Gillian cut her off. "No."

"Foster...I don't need..."

Gillian wouldn't let her finish. "I insist and I am still your boss."

Ria raised a hand in defeat. "Okay, okay..."

"I'll meet you in my office in a couple of minutes."

Torres grabbed her purse. "Okay, but you're not paying. Just so you know."

She was already halfway out the door before Gillian had a chance to answer.

She really was too much like Lightman.


	43. Chapter 43

**Chapter 43 **

_Lightman Residence _

Emily Lightman zipped up her suitcase and hoisted it off her bed. Plopping it down onto the floor with a thud.

It was nearly as heavy as the lump in her throat.

It had always been hard to leave this house. Even for a week at camp. Never mind the first time she left it for college.

But leaving it this time it was a whole other level of hard.

Emily started what she thought was a very reasonable, level-headed dinner table discussion with both her father and Gillian a couple of days ago, giving them a dozen good reasons why she should take a semester off. Stay here and help her father recover.

But they'd looked at her as if she suggested running off to the circus.

So here she was. Three hours before her flight back to California. Ready to cry.

Wondering how she was supposed to leave her father when she'd nearly lost him forever little more than a couple of weeks ago.

Emily left her suitcase sitting in the room as she headed for the living room downstairs. It was a feeble last-ditch protest.

Gillian would just tell her to get it and then Emily would do as she asked. But that was besides the point.

Traipsing down the stairs to where her father was half-sitting, half-lying on his temporary bed, Emily realized something else too. That it wasn't just her father she couldn't stand to leave. It was everything else too, everything that had turned this house into a home again.

It was Gillian watching basketball with her in the evening over a bowl of popcorn. It was Moritz spread out on the floor and snoring by the fireplace. It was her father, spending real time here again, having meals and dinner table talks with them. Mostly because he had too, but also because he enjoyed it.

It was crazy. How well they all fit in here together. The only bizarre thing was that this took so long to happen. Gillian and Moritz were the puzzle pieces they'd been missing all these years.

Emily didn't want to imagine them not being here when she got back. She liked this house a lot better like this, full of life again in the evenings.

But they probably wouldn't be here for much longer. Dad couldn't be on his own yet but as soon as he was able, Gillian would move back to her place.

That made her sad too.

Emily curled up against her father and he put an arm around her shoulders.

"Who died, luv?"

_Not funny. _

He grinned. That lop-sided, half-cocky grin that made Emily realize that maybe things would be alright with him after all.

"I don't see why I couldn't have taken a semester off to help you out here. God knows you need it, and Gillian has her hands full as it..."

Her father cut her off before she could finish. "Because it's madness. Thinking you're gonna put off your ridiculously expensive education so you can babysit your father."

Emily frowned. He could be so blunt sometimes.

"You're brilliant, luv, and interrupting your school now is a lousy idea," he said softly, pulling her a little closer. "I'm gonna be fine. Need to get back on my feet and I need to do it myself, you know?"

Emily nodded. Other times he could find exactly the words she needed to hear.

"We sprung a lot on you," he added. "Wasn't what we planned and being the plonker that I am I still haven't asked if you're okay with it."

"Okay with what?"

"Gill and Moritz. Living here."

Emily smiled. "I'm okay with it."

"You're not just saying that 'cause your father's a cripple?"

She rolled her eyes. "You know what I think? I think you should get them to stick around. Even afterwards...when you're no longer a cripple."

"You think?"

"Yeah, I think," Emily toyed with the charms on her new silver bracelet. "Do what you have to, to convince them."

"Not so good at that."

"You have time to work on it. I mean it, Dad. Don't lose them."

"Alright..." he agreed. "Gonna try for you."

"Not for me. For _you_. Okay...maybe for me too," she acknowledged. "I am kind of in love with Moritz."

"It's a lot of dog to love."

Emily looked at him. Her father was going to be okay, in spite of everything that had happened. There was something different about him since he last came to visit her in California. Emily couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was, but it was good and she knew wasn't because of the dog.

There were so many moments in her childhood when she could remember her parents being in the same room together and she could sense the friction in the air. There was something about her mother that set off her father, and vice versa, and it was awful.

Combustible. That was really the only way to describe the two of them together.

She'd only just started getting to know her mother's new husband, but Emily had the feeling that he had the same effect on her that Gillian did on her father. Something that was the opposite of combustible.

"She makes you happy, doesn't she?" Emily asked him. "Really happy." It was a silly question, because she knew the answer.

"Yeah. She does."

"Me too."

Her father planted a kiss on the side of her head. "I could see it on your face, sweetheart. Want you to know that. Even though I didn't check in with you, if I'd seen something else I wouldn't have asked Gill to stay here. Cripple or not."

Neither of them had heard the door opening until after Moritz came running into the room. Gillian came in next, cheeks flushed red from the cold outside, eyeing them suspiciously. "Are you talking about me?"

Cal looked her up and down. "'Course we are. What else would we talk about? What else do we ever talk about?"

"Whatever." She rolled her eyes. "You ready, Em?" Gillian asked her.

"Not yet," she answered as Moritz tried to climb on her legs.

Gillian took off her boots. "Your flight's on time, I checked."

"I don't wanna be at the airport early."

"Fine...but if we hit traffic..."

"It's Sunday, luv," her father pointed out to Gillian.

"Okay fine," she raised her hands in defeat. "It's freezing out there, I'm going to make some hot chocolate. Emily, you want some?"

"Yes. Please."

"Cal?"

"No, thanks."

Emily let Moritz lick her arms and snuggle into her. Somehow he knew. Knew she was leaving and that he wouldn't see her for some time.

A few minutes later Gillian came out of the kitchen with two big mugs and handed Emily one. "I know you're not big on sweets but I put in a couple of marshmallows."

"Of course you did."

Emily watched as Gillian curled herself onto the couch, next to her father, one of her hands resting on his thigh while leaning into his shoulder a little. Turning sideways to plant a kiss right under his ear.

She caught it all. The sheer pleasure on her father's face and the way his hands couldn't stay away from her either.

Emily wanted that too. To be able to connect with someone like that and share the kind of love where you didn't need words. Where a single touch or a single glance could say everything.

* * *

><p><em>Later <em>

_Ronald Reagan International Airport_

"Em..." Gillian pointed to the time on her Iphone. "You really should go through security now, or else you'll end up missing your flight."

"I'm not done with my tea," Emily told her, pointing to her half full cup. She'd dragged it out as much as she could. Stalling like a pro. Had asked Gillian if they could stop for a drink in one of the coffee shops at the airport. "You know they won't let go me through with any liquid and I don't want to waste..."

"Emily?" Gillian cut her off with a _come-on_ look. "If you miss this flight..."

"Okay, okay..." She stuffed her cranberry muffin back into the paper bag.

Gillian's hand reached across the table to cover hers. "Look, I know how hard it is for you to go this time. I_ know_."

Emily bit the inside of her cheek, not wanting to get up. _I don't think you do. _

"Here..." Gillian reached inside her purse with her free hand and took out an envelope. Sliding it across the table. "This is for you."

"Huh?"

It was a plain, white, unsealed envelope with her name written on it in neat cursive script. Gillian's handwriting.

"What is it?" Emily asked her.

"Open it."

Emily took out the paper inside and saw that it was an airline ticket. A return fare from San Francisco to DC with no dates on it.

"I don't get it..." Emily whispered.

"It's an open ticket. Come home anytime."

"Seriously?" Emily stared at it in disbelief. "I didn't know they still had these. Aren't they like crazy expensive? Isn't the company in the red?"

Gillian laughed. "Your father hasn't exactly declared personal bankruptcy yet. And technically, it's not an open ticket...it is dated. But there's no fee to change the dates. Just call the airline to make the change."

"Dad got me this?"

Gillian nodded. "He told me you were probably going to stall at the airport. So he asked me to give it you then. "

It was scary sometimes, how well her father knew her. Although Emily suspected Gillian had a hand in it too.

"We both know how hard these last couple of weeks were for you. How hard it is to leave this time...so your Dad wanted to give you the chance to come back whenever you want. If Cal can visit you in one day why can't you come home for a weekend? Any weekend...if you want to make it the next one or five weekends from now. It's up to you. Just call us so we can get you at the airport."

Emily wanted to cry. Given how she felt right now, she'd probably use it in a week.

Gillian let go of her hand and got up. "But right now...you really,_ really_ need to get through security."

Emily nodded. Funny how much easier it was to leave now that she had this in her hand. "Yes."

She grabbed her paper bag and tossed the rest of her tea into the garbage can next to their table. Then she wrapped her arms around Gillian in a fierce hug.

"You know I love you, right?"

Gillian nodded. "I know. I love you too, sweetheart and I'm so proud of you...for how you handled these few weeks. For being there for your Dad when he needed you. For being strong."

Now she _was_ going to make her cry. "You made it easy."

"Team work."

"Yup."

Gillian grabbed her wheeled suitcase for her and gave her a subtle nudge. "Come on. Get your smart-ass self back to college in sunny California."

* * *

><p><em>Lightman Residence <em>

It was an uncustomary slip on her part.

Leaving the briefcase along with his lap top at the base of the staircase where he could get to it.

But Gillian was running on fumes these days so slip-ups were bound to start happening.

Cal grabbed his crutches and hobbled over to it. It took him a few tries until he finally figured out how to balance himself well enough to hoist his computer out of the bag and set himself down on the staircase along with it. The movements sent a shooting pain up his entire body and forced him to take a couple of slow breaths after he sat down before opening it.

_Gotcha. _

The satisfaction he felt at finally getting his hands on it wore off quickly after he started skimming through the latest case files. Moving from those to the Excel spreadsheets where the numbers wouldn't add up no matter how much Foster played around with them.

Cal swallowed when he felt the truth sink to the pit of his stomach like a brick.

_What the hell were you expecting?_

"A miracle." He answered himself.

Between the two of them, if anyone could turn nothing into something, it was Gillian not him. She was the one with the aptitude for business and numbers. Sure, he was the genius who solved the bulk of their cases but she was the one who kept the wheels spinning, who turned the whole thing into a successful business. Cal wasn't too arrogant to admit that, even if he was too arrogant to ever acknowledge it out loud.

In fairness, all things considered, she'd done well. There were a handful of new cases. Small ones but with potential to bring in more business. And more importantly she'd somehow held on to the Rotblatt contract and that surprised him a little. Leslie had made it clear to him on more than one occasion that she had no interest in dealing with anyone but himself at the Lightman Group.

And here was Ria Torres handling her account and the payments were still coming through.

_That's bloody amazing. _

His smile faded when he read a few more e-mails in his inbox. Ranging from polite to persistent to downright threatening.

_It's amazing but it's not enough. _

It would be amazing if they weren't carrying the debts that they were.

The sort of cash infusion they needed to pay their existing bills wasn't anywhere in sight. And there were no more avenues to draw from. He'd already remortgaged the house when he paid out Zoe. Emily's college fund was the only hard cash he had left and even that would barely cover her undergrad education. Another loan was probably out of the question too. What bank in their right mind would give them one?

Foster was in the same boat as he was. She'd earned a good income when their business had been thriving but that hadn't been the case for nearly two years now. He knew she was carrying a sizeable mortgage of her own and although they'd never discussed it, Cal was certain Alec hadn't left her with anything. That Gillian, being Gillian wouldn't have lawyered up and fought for what she did deserve for putting up with that wanker all these years.

He knew she took the prison job because she needed an income.

There was no miracle in sight but there _was_ one thing he could still do before he considered bankruptcy. Something he should have considered doing long before he got shot. Because when it came to his science the name Lightman still meant something. It was still _worth_ something.

Cal slid the company laptop back into Gillian's case, stood up and hobbled back to the kitchen counter where he picked up his cell phone and dialled a number that he'd long ago put into his contacts but couldn't remember ever calling.

"It's Lightman," he said, leaning against the pantry with one elbow when the caller on other end picked up. "I wanna meet and talk business."

There was a stunned silence on the other end, followed by what sounded like a genuine inquiry about his health, given what he'd obviously heard or read on the news.

"Don't worry, Jack, I'm gonna live." Cal wasn't sure what to do with sincerity from Jack Rader. Wasn't even sure whether it really was sincerity. Interpreting voices over the phone wasn't his forte.

_"Good to hear. You know I enjoy the competition." _

"I think you'd enjoy swallowing it up even more."

_"What?" _

"I want to meet with you," Cal told him. "Make you an offer. A business offer." He couldn't say the words out loud. _I want to sell you my company. _

_"What kind of an offer?" _Jack Rader wanted to know.

"Not over the phone," Cal insisted. He needed to see Rader's face for this.

_"Are you sure you're in shape for business deals right now?" _That too sounded oddly sincere and it bothered him again that he couldn't tell.

"Not gonna make you this offer more than once."

_"Alright then." _

"So are you interested or not?"

_"I am always interested to hear what you have to say, Lightman and I'd love to catch up for old times sake. When and where?" _

* * *

><p><em>Outside Ronald Reagan airport <em>

Gillian rubbed her hands together inside the freezing car, after she'd turned on the engine. Then she pulled the Iphone out of her purse and dialled his home number.

_"Allô?" _

It wasn't Alex who answered but his boyfriend, Maurice. One of DC's best chefs, whose leftovers Alex brought into the office and she ate on a regular basis. She could hear dogs barking in the background. One of their two poodles.

"Hi Maurice," she greeted him, picturing the skinny, handsome Frenchman with his massive mop of thick dark hair on the other end.

_"Ah Gillian, ça me fait plaisir! Ça va bien?" _

"Très bien, merci." She'd made the mistake of practising her high school French on him during one of their meetings and now he insisted on speaking French with her each time they spoke. In reality, she barely understood a word.

_"Je suis en train de préparer quelque chose pour..." _

"Maurice..." she tried to stop him but Alex must've already taken the phone from his hand because it was his voice she heard next.

_"God I love it when he speaks French...It's the sexiest thing in the world, is it not? He won't do it for me because he says I won't understand a word but he'll do it for you. Bastard." _

Gillian giggled. "I don't understand much either."

_"I am never going to tell him that."_

"Alex..."

_"What is it, darling?" _

"Could you help me with something tomorrow morning?"

_"Yes. Sure." _

"It's not work...it's something personal."

_"Is everything okay?" _

"Yeah...it's fine. I just...I've had a hard time going back to my place after..."

_"After what happened," _Alex finished for her.

"Would you mind...coming with me? I just need to get some things from my place. I'd rather not go alone and..."

_"Of course I'll go with you. We'll do it together. It's going to be fine, darling." _

Gillian exhaled. He made it sound like a piece of cake. When in reality it took her two days to work up the nerve to ask. When even now she regretted it immediately and wanted to tell him to forget it.

_"Tell me when and give me the address and I will meet you there," _he told her and Gillian gave him the info.

"Look, Alex if you don't want to..."

_"I will meet you there tomorrow morning." _

"Okay..."

_"It's going to be fine. Trust me." _

She exhaled. "Okay. I'll see you tomorrow."

* * *

><p><em>Lightman Residence, Washington DC <em>

_Later _

"There," Gillian pressed down the last bit of the bandage onto his chest with her thumb and then ran her index finger around its edges. "All done."

She was getting better at it. Changing the dressing on his wound. She could do with steady hands now. Without feeling her heart drop into her stomach with every glance at it.

The first few times she did it, it always made her wonder how close she came to losing him.

A minute? A few seconds? A centimetre?

_A millimetre? _

His fingers curled around her wrist while his face studied her with a lazy smile. "Thanks, Doc."

"Welcome."

"Gill."

"Yeah?"

"We should talk."

Gillian exhaled as she slowly did up the buttons on his flannel shirt. Because seeing his bare chest made her crave things she knew he wasn't ready for.

She didn't feel like talking. What she had in mind didn't require words. "About what?"

"The Group...and you."

The look in his eyes was much too serious and she didn't like it. "It's late, Cal. I don't want to talk business."

"You never do. But we have to, we can't keep putting it off."

She put an index finger on his lips. "Yes, we can."

Gillian could hear the irritation in his voice. But she knew how to cure it.

Turning around she went from sitting on the bed, to kneeling on it, one of her knees between his legs, palms on the mattress and arms outstretched, Gillian lowered herself to kiss him.

"Gill..."

It was his last meek word of protest as she inched towards him. After that his hands grabbed her arms and hastened the process, pulling her down.

Gillian pushed back, not wanting to put her weight on his, but his grip let her know he was strong enough to hold her up.

"Not gonna break, luv."

Her lips found his and she stopped thinking, letting herself get lost in him. The way his tongue slipped inside her mouth and how soft his lips were next to the coarse feel of his three-day stubble. The way his hands inched higher up her arms before his fingernails slowly dug into the fleshy part behind her shoulders.

Her body responded to his touch, aroused now. It never took much when it came to Cal Lightman. One look, one touch, one kiss...or even less could set her skin on fire. Sometimes she marvelled that they were able to work together for so long and so closely without sleeping with each other.

She loved kissing him. Could spend all night doing it because it made her feel good and alive. And so wanted.

Kissing him was a constant see-saw of give-and-take. Between the greedy pleasure he took for himself and the pleasure he gave her back in equal parts, biting and teasing and kissing her in all those spots that drove her sensations wild.

Cal tried to press her down on him but she turned sideways instead, lying on his bed, one of her legs wrapped around his torso, giving his hands the freedom to roam underneath her t-shirt, lifting it up. Wanting to take it off but not wanting to stop kissing.

Gillian pulled back and helped him along. Hastily taking it off for him, letting his hands cup her breasts before her swollen lips found his again.

She could feel his arousal too now, growing against their entwined legs, and it snapped her out of it. Forced her to think again.

Gillian slowed down, extracted her lips from his and snuggled into his pillow, nose pressed up against his neck. "We shouldn't..." she reminded him.

"Yeah, we can..._want to_..."

"Cal..."

He sighed, his breathing heavy and laboured and Gillian felt guilty. For instigating this and taunting him. When he wasn't physically ready.

"I'm tired of waiting, Gill. You and me, we waited so damn long and now we're back to waiting."

Gillian smirked. "Docs said a few weeks. We're almost there."

The doctors told them to wait a few weeks before resuming sexual activity. Of course they'd asked. It was one of Cal's first questions. Although in hindsight maybe they should've asked for clarification on what exactly they meant by sexual activity.

After all, there was a lot you could do without...

_Stop it, _Gillian chided herself. _This can wait. All of it. _

"Right then," he conceded, turning sideways to look at her, his eyes meeting hers. "Maybe put that t-shirt back on if you really want me to keep my hands off you."

Gillian cupped his chin and gave him another kiss. It was impossible not to, when he looked at her like that. "You have no willpower."

"Not when it comes to you."

Gillian sat up and put her shirt back on.

Cal stared up at her while she did it. "Kidding...leave it off. At least let me look."

"Too late," she told him, sinking back down beside him, stifling a yawn. Part of her wanted to stay here with him, in this ridiculously small bed but another part of her didn't want to chance it. Not yet.

"You said you wanted work news...I do have work news for you. Torres is pregnant."

Genuine surprised lined his face. "Seriously? Torres, pregnant? How the hell did that happen?"

"Take a wild guess."

"Do we know the father?"

"It's Loker, Cal...you know they've been seeing each other."

"Just didn't think they were at the family planning stage yet."

"It wasn't exactly planned."

He sighed. "See what happens when I leave the place for a few weeks? Bloody hell."

Gillian smiled. "I'll tell Torres you said congratulations. By the way...did you have any food tonight?" She really was a lousy housewife.

Cal ran a hand through her hair, playing with a loose strand. "Yeah. Leftovers in the fridge. You?"

"I had something at the airport with Em." A croissant counted as something.

His index finger trailed along her shoulders now. "You've lost weight."

Gillian closed her eyes. "A little."

"More than a little," he told her. "I'm very familiar with every curve, you know."

"Is that right?"

His fingers trailed a little lower until they came to a stop on her thigh, resting them there after giving it a squeeze. Cal exhaled and turned back to her again. "You know what I miss?"

"Besides sex?"

He smiled. "Yeah...besides that."

"What?"

"Talking to you."

"We're talking now."

"Since the shooting, we haven't talked about anything."

Gillian looked at him. Not understanding why he was so serious again.

"The company's a mess," he said softly. "And every time I want to bring it up, you shut me down."

Gillian's eyes wandered to her laptop bag, sitting next to the staircase. She'd been so careful to keep it away from him but of course the one time she forgot...he would have jumped on the chance to open, while she was out of the house dropping off Emily.

"So you checked the numbers. Good for you," she told him. Irritated that he did, even though it didn't surprise her. "Let me know what difference it's going to make except for getting you worked up."

"I'm worked up because you're keeping it from me! I know what the damn numbers are! It's been over two weeks...I'm not on my deathbed anymore, Gill. I want to talk about our options for this company. I have a bloody right to."

"Fine..." she raised her hands in defeat. "We'll talk about the Group. But not now, not tonight."

"This is_ exactly_ what I mean...you keep shutting me down."

"Not tonight. Here. In bed." She was adamant.

Cal exhaled. He wasn't going to win this battle. If he pushed any more she'd get up and leave. It was unfair but she'd do it. He knew her well enough to know that. "Alright."

"Is that all?"

"No," he went on. "It's not all. I wanna talk about what's happening with you."

"Me?"

"Since the shooting, you don't eat, you don't sleep and you think I don't notice."

Gillian's cheeks flushed red. Embarrassed. An interrogation wasn't what she was expecting. Not after the way they'd kissed only moments ago.

"What do you want me to tell you, Cal?"

"Everything."

She was angry, but he no longer was. The things she did hear in his voice, things like love, concern and understanding, only made her feel guilty on top of everything else.

Cal's hand found her chin and turned her head towards him.

"Didn't even know you had a concussion until Wallowski mentioned it to me," he added, forcing her to look at him. "Made me feel like a wanker."

Since when was Wallowski discussing her state of health with Cal? What business was it of hers anyway?

"Gill..."

"I almost watched you die two weeks ago," she finally managed. "_You_ were the only thing on my mind. That's all. I'm not trying to keep things from you."

"I'm not dying anymore and you're not okay," he told her. "But I can't help you if you won't tell me a thing."

Tears clouded her eyes and that only made her angrier. _This _wasn't how she wanted to end this evening. Just for once she didn't want to think about it. Why did Cal have to bring it up when he was the only one who could make her forget it?

"I don't want to talk about that night," she said softly. "Talking about it isn't going to make it better."

"Then what is?"

She swallowed and met his unwavering gaze. He was so very different from Alec. From most of the men in her past life.

Her father's way of dealing with life was to drown his sorrows and build up walls.

Her ex-husband needed cocaine to get through a rough week. Alec couldn't deal with his own problems, never mind any of hers. Her ex-husband couldn't even talk to her about losing Sophie. Not once. Alec had taught her to be strong enough for both of them because if she wasn't they'd both fall apart.

Even Burns left her the minute they faced their first real test.

Thanks to the men in her life, Gillian had learned to fix herself, and for the most part she was convinced she'd done a good job. Enough so that she'd built a career around doing it for others too. Who was Cal to suggest otherwise?

_"Then what is?" _

Funny how she of all people, with her PhD in clinical psychology, should have the answer to that one. But she didn't.

"I don't know."

Cal took one of her hands into both of his, his thumb running circles on her palm, until he pulled her hand up to his lips and kissed it. "S'alright, luv. If you don't know. But you gotta let me in. Gotta let me at least try and help you. We're in this together and we're gonna go through it together. All of it."

Gillian nodded. Cal Lightman could be ruthless bully when he needed to be and sometimes just because he felt like it. But there was this side to him too. This Cal, the one that made her love him and the one that only a handful of people ever got to see, was gentler than any man she'd ever known. He was also the only man she knew who wasn't afraid of facing the terrible things life threw in his path.

"You're not alone," he reminded her. "Not while I'm around."

Truth was, she wasn't ready to deal with this. Wasn't ready to share these new demons with anyone. Wasn't even entirely sure she was capable of it.

"Come on," Cal pulled her back down, into him. Enveloping her with his warmth and his love.


	44. Chapter 44

Sorry for the delay. These last couple of weeks have kind of kicked my butt. Hoping to compensate by updating again in a week instead of two. Good deal, no? ;) Thanks to those still reading and taking the time to leave me your thoughts! I swear the story end is near.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 44 <strong>

_Sibley Memorial Hospital, Center for Rehabilitation Medicine , Washington DC_

"Ten more," the man's voice instructed him.

Cal Lightman pushed the rubber band away from his chest and extended his arm in the process.

"Nine..."

The band flexed out in front of him. Flat and taut.

"Eight..."

"I can count, thank you very much."

The young blonde man wearing the blue scrubs wasn't amused. But he shut up.

_Mission accomplished. _

By the time he got down to three, Cal clenched his teeth and sent the rubber band flying across the room, nearly hitting a guy who was taking tentative steps while holding on to two poles of wood.

The blonde man, Cal's physiotherapist, ran across the room to retrieve the band and brought it back to him.

"Slipped out of your fingers, did it, Doctor Lightman?"

"Yeah," Cal nodded. "Bonkers isn't it? How that happens."

"What would be..._bonkers, _is if you were to hit one of our patients with it."

Cal made a face. Done with this charade already. He leaned forward, getting into the guy's face. "Do you wanna tell me why I'm moving a piece of rubber back and forth with my arm when I got shot in the leg?" He pointed to his knee. "Did you pass Anatomy 101 back at college?"

The handsome therapist narrowed his eyes, squinting at him. Irritation and annoyance. That's what he read on the man's face. Granted, Cal could spot those emotions with one eye closed. They were familiar reactions from the people he interacted with.

The physiotherapist squatted next to him and ran his index finger from Cal's biceps, up his arm, along his shoulder and slowly inched towards his heart. "This part of your...anatomy, Doctor Lightman is all connected by a series of muscles and tissue and nerves. When you got shot in the chest...and you did get shot in the chest, right?" He asked but wasn't really asking. "Or was I given the wrong information?"

_Sarcastic wanker. _

"This is correct." Lightman mumbled.

"So...when you were shot in the chest, if affected the tissue and the muscles and the nerves in those areas of your anatomy. You might have noticed that it's hard to lift things. That it feels like there's this heavy pressure on your chest when you try to use the crutches."

"Look I get..."

"This is why I'm having you do those repetitions, Doctor Lightman."

"You know, you could call me Cal."

The man ignored him and kept talking. "Because we need to strengthen those muscles again so you can use the crutches without damaging your heart. So that once you're steady enough on the crutches we can start the real work."

"Got it."

The young man tossed the rubber band back at him. "Do another 20 reps and hold on to it a little tighter this time, Doctor Lightman."

What were the chances? That he'd get a drill sergeant masquerading as physiotherapist?

"Look, kid. I get it. The muscles are connected...but could we expedite the process a little? I've got a business to run. I can't sit around here and twist rubber bands when what I really need to do is get back on my feet."

"Doctor Lightman..." he paused and this time Cal had to fight back the urge to sock him one in the jaw. Surely repeating his name five times in as many minutes was justifiable cause.

Then again, punching a cop in a police station was what led to the lawsuit against the Lightman Group. It put the nails in the coffin of his company's financial state. It strained his friendship with Foster and led to that god-awful night in his office. Forced him to go on a year-long retainer to the DC police for free and take on that heinous Rotblatt contract.

Maybe punching a guy in the face wasn't the best idea. He fought back the urge.

The kid was finally done pausing. "My job_ is_ to get you back on your feet. I'm pretty good at it if you'll actually let me do it. "

Cal wrapped the band around his upper arm and grabbed hold of the two lose ends.

"Right."

The kid smiled and revealed a row of perfect American teeth. "I'll count with you."

_Fabulous. _

"Let's start at twenty..."

* * *

><p><em>Lightman Group Offices, Washington DC <em>

The office wasn't actually open yet but Eli Loker was here early because he really had nowhere else to be.

It was the one place that lifted his spirits. The huge labs with some of the best equipment in the city. The country even. He could load up the CVSA they bought last year and feed celebrity voices into it, to see how frequently they lied in interviews or he could chat in real time with a doctoral student in Japan about how habitat destruction was changing herd behaviour among pink flamingos in Africa while they logged into each other's data feeds.

Sometimes he'd take his research data and plot different graphs just to see the distributions mapped out in front of him. Compare them as he plotted them next to each other.

Histograms. Frequency polygons. Sometimes even rainbow coloured pie charts.

_Nerd porn. _

Ria Torres didn't care about any of that stuff. She could barely interpret some of his research but when it came to the day-to-day work they did, she was leaps and bounds ahead of him. Ria could spot the faintest traces of emotion in people. Ones that only Cal Lightman was good enough to catch.

It bothered him sometimes, that all her abilities were just there for the taking. Torres didn't have to read countless journals and textbooks and study image after image in order to read facial cues. All she had to do was open her eyes.

But lately he was rarely jealous. Mostly he was just proud of her. Of her skills and talents which were one in ten million. Or more precisely, one in twelve million seven-hundred and fifty-two thousand. (He checked.)

He also couldn't stop thinking of her. Even now, when he was surrounded by all his favourite toys.

Eli Loker switched on the lights, walked into the dark labs and tossed his breakfast bagel, still uneaten inside its paper bag, on the messy table that doubled as his desk.

He'd long ago given up on asking for a proper desk. Truth was he'd rather be in here anyway.

"Loker?"

He turned to see the dark silhouette of the woman he loved standing in the doorway.

Eli swallowed. They hadn't spoken much lately. Just the necessary work conversations to make sure Foster wouldn't notice how bad things were between them (as if she wouldn't notice anyway). Ria avoided him like the plague and after dozens of pleading texts and messages had gone unanswered he'd finally given up. Deciding it was up to her to make the next move. Even if he couldn't stop thinking about her and the baby she was carrying._ His_ baby.

He was surprised that she stopped to say his name once she spotted him in the lab.

Or maybe she was just confirming that he wasn't a burglar. Even if calling out his name was a lousy way of doing it. The human female wasn't always a very rational species.

"Ria." He gave her a lop-sided grin now that he could see her better. Happy to be in the same room as her.

"Hi."

He grabbed the paper bag on his counter and held it up for her. "Wanna breakfast bagel? It's...fresh."

Ria's gaze went to the bag. "What kind?"

Loker caught his breath, shocked that she didn't turn him down. He wanted to grin because her reaction made him stupidly and disproportionately happy, but he stopped himself, trying not to let it show. "It's, uh...it's sesame with extra cream cheese."

"You don't want it?"

"No," he handed it to her and Ria took it, clasping the paper bag in one hand.

"So you bought it even though you didn't want it?"

Loker paused. "I did...I did want it when I bought it." It was so pointless to lie to her he shouldn't have bothered to try. "But now that you're here, I want you to have it more." That was no lie.

A smile played on her lips. Seeing him squirm amused her a little. "Okay...thanks."

"How...how are you?" _Since when did he stutter?_

"Huh?"

"I mean, how are you feeling? With the baby and all that."

"I'm okay."

"Really?"

She did a little shoulder shrug. So, not really.

"I'm puking a lot. Craving some things like crazy...and others, stuff that I used to like I can't stand now. Just the smell of some things make me want to throw up."

Loker nodded, not saying anything because he didn't know what to say. He didn't want to chance saying something stupid. And chances were high that he would if he opened his mouth.

"Loker..." she looked serious now, still holding on this paper bag. "I made a decision. About the baby."

"You did?"

"Yeah, I did."

So this was what it felt like. To have your heart plummet into your gut and settle there like a brick.

"I've decided to keep it."

"Keep it..." he repeated the words after her like a fool. "You're keeping it." It never occurred to Loker that not keeping it was an option. But of course it would be. Ria never said that she wanted a baby. It was the main reason they used protection, or thought they did. Most of the time. And even if she did want a child, who's to say she wanted to have _his _baby?

"I'm don't wanna tie you to me with this baby. I want you to know that. But if I need help...in any way, I am gonna ask for it. Because this baby_ is_ yours."

"I know..." There were so many things he was feeling now. A gushing river of emotions pulsed through his veins.

"Okay, good."

"Ria, I want to."

"Want what?"

"Be tied to this baby's life...and your life."

"You're saying that now," she countered. "But later..."

"I'll say it later too. When she's crying at three in the morning or needs a diaper change when I'm in the middle of working on a research paper."

Ria raised her brows. "_She_?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "Or he. I mean, I don't know...but I mean it. I know I said it before but I'm sorry, 'bout what I said, 'bout asking you whether the baby's mine. I didn't mean that." This time the words came out easily now because they were the truth and he wanted her to see it on his face. It was the first time she'd stuck around long enough to see it.

"I know..." she acknowledged. "It just hurt. A lot."

"I wish I could take it back."

"Me too," she admitted. She looked down at the floor for a second before raising her chin and locking her gaze with his again and holding up her paper bag. "Do you wanna come to the caf with me? Have half of this?"

"Okay."

She turned around and Loker followed, until he was walking down the corridor alongside her, stealing a glance here and there, at the way her hips moved when she walked. How amazing her ass looked in those dark jeans. The way her long hair fell down her slender back. Envisioning how splendid she would be as she filled out during pregnancy.

"What are you grinning at?" she asked him, turning sideways.

"Nothing." He smiled. Giddy happy at the way this morning way turning out.

Sometimes the early bird really did get the worm.

* * *

><p><em>Georgetown, Washington DC<em>

It was starting to rain. A light, half-snow, half-rain kind of a drizzle. Wintry mix was what the weather networks called it.

Gillian shivered as she stood outside her house in her not-warm-enough trench coat. Style over substance was a lousy choice this morning. The wind combined with the damp made it seem much colder than it really was. It never got bitingly cold in DC. She'd gone to Montreal in January once while on business for the Lightman Group and that gave her whole new perspective on what winters _could _be like.

This...this was manageable.

But still. She was early and freezing. Her teeth chattered and the damp was starting to seep right into her bones.

_You could go inside. _

That thought made her shiver even more.

She regretted this. Coming here. Telling Alex to join her. Asking for help. Thinking she could do this. Standing out here in the freezing cold.

It started to rain harder, goose bumps lined her arms, her skin crawled and every fibre of her body wanted to flee.

Gillian pulled her Iphone out of her coat pocket and pressed for Alex's number. "Hey...it's me. Listen...something's come up at the Group. I can't meet you at my place any more and..."

_"I'm almost there. I know you are too. Don't you go anywhere." _

Her cold fingers gripped the phone. How in the world would he know that she was already here?

_Because I'm always early for everything. That's why. _

"Alex...I'm serious. I can't..."

_"So am I. Just got off the Q street bus. I'm two blocks from you. Stay put!" _

"Look I'm your boss..." She was indignant now.

_"Not right now you're not," _he was breathing heavily into the phone. As if he was walking quickly_. "We're not on company time." _

A gust of wind swept wet hair across her face. "Alex..."

"Hi, Gillian!"

She turned on her heels and could make out his large figure approaching from the end of the block. Could see the smirk on his face as he got closer.

"Do I know you or do I know you?" he asked her, out of breath by the time he stood next to her and held his bright orange umbrella over both of them.

Gillian didn't know what to say. Embarrassed at having been caught in her own lie so easily. It was something she used to see her own patients doing. Because it's what paralyzing fear did to you. It made you do anything to avoid facing it. She remembered a patient of hers who'd lied about his mother dying so he could get out of a therapy session.

"Are you ready to do this?" he asked her.

She shook her head. No, she wasn't. "I can't..." she admitted. "I can't go in there."

Alex draped his free arm around her shoulders. "You're not going alone. We're going in there together."

Just looking at the house, her _home_, made her heart race. Made her feel queasy.

"Tell me what you see," he asked her, still holding the umbrella over their heads as the drops came down stronger; little wet nails pummelling into a flimsy shield.

"I see me standing there...that night...opening the door..."

_Without even looking through the peephole. Stupid, stupid, stupid. If only I wasn't so stupid none of this... _

"Look closer," Alex's voice cut through her irrational thoughts.

Gillian stared at her front door. "My house..."

"Describe it for me."

"There's...a door, a window next to it..."

"I want details. _Describe_ the door."

"It's...a creamy off white colour. Beige almost and the door handle, it's heavy and bronze. There's a knocker in the middle. Same colour as the handle."

"What's it made of?"

"Wood. It's a heavy, old wood. Not sure what kind. There's a lot of wood in the house...it's why I loved it." _Loved. _Past tense.

She could see what he was doing. Altering her perceptions. The door wasn't a memory. It wasn't that night or Hunter Kline. It was just a door. A plain, ordinary looking door. Made of wood and metal. With a knocker and hinges and an indented, square pattern on the front. He was forcing her to see it for what it was.

Gillian hadn't even noticed that they'd started walking towards it.

"Touch it," he told her once they got close enough.

"Alex, I get it..."

"Touch it."

Gillian did and of course he was right. It reminded all her senses that it was only a door. Nothing else. It didn't mean her heart wasn't still racing at the thought of opening it but seeing it for what it was meant she could walk up to it without wanting to throw up.

"Where are your keys?" he asked her.

The rain kept falling. It was so cold and damp but Gillian started to sweat. Heat ran up her throat and filled her chest.

She didn't want to go back inside. Not after what happened the first time. Not with Alex here to watch her fall apart. _What the hell made her think this was a good idea last night? _

"I don't want to go in..." she mumbled.

"Give me your keys."

"I can't to do this," she protested. "I'm not ready..."

"Gillian," he looked at her, oblivious to the rain and the cold. "You know that the longer you put it off, the more you fight it...the harder it gets. You _know_ that."

Gillian stood frozen in front of her door. Of course she knew it. Knew all the steps she needed to take to conquer this and somehow couldn't find a way to take a single one. What kind of half-decent psychologist couldn't even help herself?

"I won't force you to do anything you're not comfortable doing, darling. I won't make you stay any longer than you want to...but let's at least take one step inside. Let's try, okay?"

She nodded, wanting to cry. Hating that she did. At odds with both his help and his kindness and with her own emotions that threatened to overwhelm her at every turn. All of it was new and frightening and unrecognizable to her.

Gillian handed him her keys and Alex opened the door and led her inside. Shaking out the umbrella before he stepped in after her, closing the door behind them. He turned on the lights, making her heart race a million miles an hour while turning her knees into rubber.

Alex grabbed a hold of one of her hands. "You're doing amazing. You know that, right?"

She didn't feel amazing. What she did feel was that her body was no longer under her control. Her limbs were weak and useless, her heart was pounding so hard it resonated in her skull and throat and she suddenly couldn't breathe properly anymore.

"Alex..." her voice sounded far away to her. "Can't get any air. Let me go outside..."

"You're having an acute stress reaction, a panic attack..." His voice sounded far away too. "It feels like you're dying. I know. _But you're not_."

She pushed him away. "Let me get out...please." She was so desperate now, needing to get out so badly, it was pathetic. The hallway was suffocating her, exactly like Kline tried to that night. She was crying and could feel warm tears running down her face.

"Gillian," Alex's voice was calm and his hands on her shoulders steadied her, turning her around and forcing her to look at him. "This panic...it's going to get worse. But you're going to let it get worse, because after it reaches its peak...it'll pass. Let it peak, no matter awful it feels."

"Alex..._I can't_." She gave him another push but he was stronger and held her back.

"Sit down," he ordered her.

Gillian did as he asked only because she didn't think she could stand any longer.

Alex handed her a paper bag as soon as they were both sitting on the floor and leaning against the wall. "Breathe into it."

Gillian took it but didn't follow his orders until he repeated them a second time. Until her vision started to blur.

Once she got some oxygen back into her lungs, her heartbeat slowed down and the tingling in her limbs became manageable. She could feel the panic start to subside with every deep breath she took. The fear was still there when she put down the paper bag, but it didn't overpower her anymore.

She waited until it subsided even more and until emptiness and exhaustion overpowered the panic. Like she'd just run a marathon and had nothing left to give.

Gillian wasn't sure how long they sat there in silence until she felt Alex's hand on her thigh.

"Better?"

Gillian nodded. She still wanted to run outside even if now she could fight the urge.

"You just passed the biggest hurdle. Right here. Facing the fear."

She wouldn't have if he hadn't forced her.

She wiped a tear from her eyes. "I know what this is, Alex...I feel like I should know how to..."

"Know what? How to cure yourself? Or what...know better than to even let it happen to you?"

"I never thought it would be..." Her hands were still shaking. "So intense...I mean, _knew_...but I didn't really know."

"We never really know until we go through something ourselves." Alex said.

Gillian stared at the wall across from her. Noticing a chip of peeling paint that she'd never caught before.

"Gillian..."

What was he expecting her to say? That she was a mess? Unable to deal with the aftermath of that night? Was he waiting for her to acknowledge that she needed professional help?

"I'm not who I used to be anymore. It scares me and I hate it." She was wiling to acknowledge that.

"You know what would scare me?" he asked her. "If what happened_ didn't_ change you. A man you were already terrified of came into your house and held you hostage. He assaulted you. Then he made you watch while he shot the man you love."

"How do you even know all that?"

"It was on the news."

Now she felt naked and exposed now on top of everything else. Wondering what else they'd mentioned on the news.

"When I heard. I was worried like crazy...I had to know," Alex explained.

"It's okay..." She'd have done the same if something happened to him.

"How can you be human and have something like that not change you?"

Gillian bit her lip. Still itching to get out of her own home. "I want it to be over, Alex. I want to be me again. To be able to go into my own house without having a panic attack."

"You're still you," he told her. "But you have to admit that you're going through this. Confront, accept and deal with it...not avoid it."

"I'm not ready to see a shrink."

"Not suggesting that," he told her. "Never mind that therapy is only effective if the patient is willing. But the fact that you called me last night...it tells me that maybe you're more ready than you think. Or at least ready to let me help you."

"I don't want you to feel that..."

"That I have to?"

Gillian couldn't quite tell whether he was offended or amused.

He stifled a laugh. "God, you're lousy at asking for help."

"I know..." she admitted. It was the sad truth.

"Let's take it one day at a time," he suggested. "Coming here...today. You took a huge first step. We'll take the next one when you're ready. And if it takes too long I'll give you a push."

She raised a brow and mumbled a thank you.

"You said you wanted to get some things? Think you can head upstairs?"

Gillian exhaled. The only place she wanted to head was out the front door. "Give me a minute."

"Sure."

Alex stared at the wall until something suddenly occurred to him. "Since we're here, sitting on the floor of your house, in perfect conversation mode...I have some really interesting news for you."

Gillian wondered if he was trying to distract her again.

"Have you heard of Meridian?" he asked her.

"The insurance company?"

"Yeah."

"They're huge."

"The local office has a corporate account at Maurice's restaurant."

"Okay."

"Anyway," Alex went on. "Last night a bunch of Meridian executives had a big dinner there and one of the waiters overheard them talking about the lie detector company they use. So the waiter asked if they were talking about the Lightman Group." Alex looked slightly embarrassed. "I was excited. I blabbed about my new job to everyone at the restaurant."

Gillian was starting to make the connection. Meridian was one of Jack Rader's clients. One of his biggest.

"So anyway, turns out Rader's firm messed up on some of their cases, the waiter heard them debating whether to renew their contract and heard them say they were looking for alternatives and I was thinking..."

"Oh my god, yes," Gillian nodded, suddenly forgetting where she was. "Let's approach them. See what they need and whether we could offer them something better."

Nabbing one of the country's biggest insurance firms from Rader would a huge coup. _Huge._

Granted they didn't have the manpower for a contract like that right now, but that was an easy problem to solve.

"So after the waiter tells Maurice this, he gives me a call at home. Asks me if I want him to do anything...so, well honestly, Gillian...I was about to change out of my Christina Aguilera pyjamas and run over there myself but Maurice talked me out of it. What he did do was go out there to the table to talk to them himself after their dinner," Alex paused a second. "They love that stuff you know, people at his restaurant when the chef comes out and asks them how everything was. So while they're all over him, Maurice discretely pointed out where I worked and whether they would be okay with me contacting them."

"_Seriously_?"

"Seriously. I think you should make the call."

"They're expecting to hear from you."

"They're expecting to hear from the Lightman Group. Right now that's you."

"No," Gillian countered. "It's all of us. You, Eli, Torres..."

"Fine. Whatever. You should still make the call. Just imagine..."

"If we could snatch them from Rader..." She _was_ imagining it. That kind of contract could help put the wheels in motion for them to start recovering. "Okay..." she looked at him. "What are we waiting for? Let's go to the office and put together a proposal."

"Not so fast..." Alex clumsily pushed himself off the floor with a groan and held out his hand to help her up. His glance went from her to the staircase. "Let's finish here first."

"Not now," she protested. He'd managed to get her into her house and stop thinking about that night for a couple of minutes. It was enough. "This is more impor..."

"No," Alex cut her off. "It's not. If you're not okay the company's not okay."

Gillian's fingers toyed nervously with the little flap that covered the pockets on her wool coat. Could feel her heart rate quicken again.

"I really don't want to."

"I know," Alex told her, taking his huge hands and wrapping them around hers. There was so much genuine compassion in his voice it almost made her wonder about the things he might have gone through himself, long before she met him. "I know, darling. But we're going to do it anyway."


	45. Chapter 45

As promised next chapter a mere week later (for all those writers that do this once-a-week thing all the time, I'm so impressed). Thanks to GDA for reading over it and keeping the typo-count low. And of course big thanks to those still reading and popping by with your feedback!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 45 <strong>

_"Love is friendship set on fire." - Unknown _

_Lightman Group Offices, Washington DC _

Gillian Foster was pacing with the phone in her hand. Moving from the couch and coffee table in Lightman's office to his desk and back again.

"Yes, yes I do understand the severity _and_ the urgency."

"Yes. Ten business days."

"Understood."

Gillian Foster ended the call and stopped pacing, sitting down on his leather couch, not noticing that she was holding her breath. Or that the skirt she was wearing wasn't nearly as tight as it used to be when she sat down. At this rate she'd soon need to buy a belt or go down a size.

Ten days. For the Lightman Group to pay back their lenders a ridiculous sum of money they didn't have and wouldn't have anytime soon. Ten days before the bank stepped in and took drastic action.

Her mind raced and Gillian bit the nail of her index finger thinking of ways it might be possible. If they could somehow snatch Meridian from Rader...but even then it would be several weeks before the money started rolling in.

"But as long as we can prove to the bank that the income will come in..."

Or...

There was one other way. A last ditch option. It was the only asset left between the two of them. Using it had crossed her mind more than once since the shooting.

_Cal would never agree to it. _

"It's time to let the Group go," she whispered to herself. "I tried. We all tried."

Maybe that's why it hurt so much. Because they'd all tried so damn hard at the end. Her coming back after the shooting to try and keep things together. Cal's retainer with the DC police to stave off the lawsuit. Ria and Loker putting in the insane hours they did and letting Leslie Rotblatt treat them however she saw fit. Alex and his willingness to run around various states searching for new clients and fill in any role she handed him.

But all of it was too little, too late. They'd made too many mistakes and burned too many bridges for far too long.

_We should've seen it coming. It was inevitable. _

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts, making Gillian push an outstretched arm into the sofa and turn around to see who was there. The door to Cal's office wasn't closed but Alex Almeida always knocked anyway.

"Are you ready?" he asked her.

Gillian stared at him, suddenly wondering how she'd tell him he'd be out of a job in two weeks too. Along with Torres who'd decided to keep her baby and was going to be a mother soon. The thought of breaking the news to them tore at her.

"Yeah...can you give me two minutes?"

"Of course. I only came by to see if you want to go over anything."

"No...I think the pitch is perfect." They'd gone over it often enough last night.

She was talking about the sales pitch to Meridian. The one that would convince them to leave Rader's firm and join theirs. Ideally, Cal should be there with them, he was their main selling point, after all, but she didn't even tell him about it. Much as he protested, he wasn't ready to come back to work and the last thing he needed was something to deter him from focusing on his physical recovery. Besides, Gillian didn't want to get his hopes up in case it didn't work out.

"We should leave soon," Alex added. "Ria is ready too."

"I know," she agreed. "Two minutes."

"You okay?"

Gillian nodded. "Fine."

Alex didn't push. "Stop by my office when you're ready. We can take my car. I even washed it this morning."

It was his way of letting her know that he wasn't keen on pulling up to their meeting in hers. Gillian hadn't washed her car in weeks and it was a mess. It was hard to tell what parts of the grey colour were due to the DC winter dirt and grime and what parts were its original paint.

She skimmed through the contact list on her phone, looking for a number she hadn't called in three years. Deciding she wasn't ready to let go without at least considering her final option.

She pressed on it when she found it. "Hi, Vince," she started when a bubbly voice answered on the other end. "It's Gillian Foster. You helped me and my ex-husband sell our house nearly three years ago. I was wondering if you might be interested in helping me sell another one?"

* * *

><p><em>Lightman Residence, Washington DC <em>

Cal Lightman stared at Jack Rader as he strolled across the messy living room, adjusting his designer tie in lieu of expressing his disdain.

Cal probably should've made an effort to at least put away his breakfast dishes for what could be one of the most important business meetings of his life. Between him being unable to tackle the housework and Gillian lacking both time and energy for it, the whole place was a mess. He'd finally called a cleaning company and they were due to come by tomorrow morning. Not a moment too soon.

Then again, it was Jack Rader, so truth was Cal didn't really give a damn. Let him get dog hair on his pricey suit.

"Can I give you a hand with that?" Rader offered when Cal hobbled a little before putting away the crutches and sitting down at the dining room table. He was getting better at this but he still looked like a wobbly giraffe on the verge of tumbling over when he turned too fast.

"No."

Jack Rader smiled and sat down across from him. "You haven't changed a bit, Lightman."

Cal smiled at the thought. He _had_ changed this year. In immeasurable ways. But he was fine with Rader thinking he hadn't.

"How are you doing?" Rader asked him with surprising sincerity. Cal probably should've offered him a beverage of sorts but he couldn't be bothered.

"Good," he answered. "Gonna live. Sorry 'bout that."

Jack Rader smiled. "I'm not. Competition's good for the economy. And for the soul."

"A monopoly's even better for your soul."

Jack Rader put his elbows on the table and leaned forward a little. "Let's cut to the chase, shall we? Are you serious about selling the Lightman Group 'cause I don't have time to play games."

"No games."

"What makes you think I wanna buy your company?"

Cal chuckled. "Because I know you do."

"Your company's in the toilet."

"My company went though a rough patch. Best businesses in the world go through them."

Rader laughed, "Stop right there, Lightman. Let's not pretend you know a thing about business. Or that what the Lightman Group is going through is a rough patch. I know you like to think everyone else is dumber than you but I'm not a complete idiot." He let the words sink in. "You'd never considerselling your company if it wasn't in the toilet. So tell me again why you think I'd want to buy your mess?"

Cal exhaled. It took a lot of restraint not to tell him to piss off right then and there. Or even better to sock him a quick one right on the jaw. Even with one working leg and a weak heart, Cal was convinced he'd still come up a winner if they had to battle it out by hand.

_How far you've come, you little wanker. _

He clenched his fist a little, ignoring his annoyance. He was getting better at it. Much as he hated Rader, Cal knew that there was no one else who'd consider buying the Group. No one else who could appreciate its value the way Jack Rader would.

"Why would you wanna buy that mess?" Cal asked. "Thought you might be smart enough to figure that out yourself, but lemme help you out."

"Go for it," Rader was mildly amused. "Give me your best sales pitch."

"Because I'm the one who pioneered the field that's gotten you rich. Because like it or not, the Lightman name still means something."

Rader gave him a subtle nod. Agreeing on both counts. "Go on."

"Because the Lightman name will finally give you the kind of legitimacy you've been dying for since you opened up your flashy business a few years ago. Last time I checked there wasn't a PhD after your name. You probably can't even spell thesis, never mind write one of your own."

Rader kept what he thought was a poker face, but Lightman caught the flashes of anger in his eyes. "What's the point of having the Lightman name if I don't have Lightman working for me?"

"Who said you won't?" Cal countered. "I'm willing to do freelance work for you. My terms and my rates. It'd be in the sales agreement of course."

"Of course. Go on."

"I hear you're great at getting clients but not so good at keeping them. It's because you're good at sales and marketing but not so good with the science. I've got one of the best naturals in the country working for me and Loker knows the science behind our business better than either of us do."

"So your employees come with the business?"

"They're great at what they do. You'd be a fool to sack them."

Rader feigned indifference. "There's someone else working at the Group that I'm more interested in than either Loker or Torres, but, whatever...go on."

Cal glared at him, tightening his fist again.

Foster's the one person who wouldn't stick around, Cal was certain of it. Being a licensed psychologist gave her a few more career options than Loker and Torres had.

"Then there's the lab. I still have the most sophisticated lab equipment in the country for what we do. You've wanted the Cube for as long I've known you."

"I have my own..." Rader started off.

"Version," Cal finished off for him. "Sure you do. But we both know it's a pile of rubbish next to the original."

"You're so full..."

"Spare me," Cal stopped him with a wave of his hand. "Your phony indignation. We both know it. And while we're being honest with each other, yeah...you're right, my company's in the toilet. But the rest of what I told you is true too. Buying it could be the best thing that ever happened to your company."

Rader leaned forward in his chair, put his elbows on the dining room table and clasped his hands together, as if he might start praying. "Let's say I wasinterested...what sort of ballpark price am I looking at?"

Cal grabbed a piece of paper, took a pen and wrote down the number he'd calculated earlier in the day, and passed the paper over to him.

"You've got to be kidding!"

"The lab alone is worth almost that much."

"Maybe back when you first bought it a decade ago."

Cal snickered. "Feel free to look at it and make up your own mind. You might wanna take along someone who knows more about the science than you do when you get around to it."

"You know...you like to rub it in my face that I don't have a PhD after my name, but I'm not ashamed to say I'm a businessman first and a scientist after that. I don't need to oversee every case we handle. It's called managing and delegating. It's why we're sitting here right now...with my company thriving and you trying to salvage your good name by selling yours."

Cal scrunched his lips and made a face. _Touché. _"I'd say thriving is a generous adjective where the Rader Firm is concerned."

Jack Rader pushed back his chair and folded the piece of paper Cal gave him, stuffing it into one of the pockets of his pants after he stood up. "Tell you what, I'll have my lawyers contact yours, get the all paperwork from your end along with full disclosure, including all the debts you're undoubtedly carrying and we'll go from there."

"I want an answer in a week or the offer is off the table."

"You're something else," Rader snorted. "Begging me to buy your company while pretending you're still the one calling the shots."

Cal laughed. "Begging, aye?"

"By the way, don't you have an equity partner who should be in the room for this discussion?"

"I made you a preliminary offer. That's all. Foster had no interest in being here tonight. She'll be there when you sign the papers, don't worry."

"Or maybe you couldn't handle having her in the same room as me without starting a pissing contest to mark your territory?"

"Here I thought you didn't know me." Cal grinned. "You're right. Would have gotten ugly real quick."

"You work up the guts to ask her out yet?"

Cal slouched back in his seat. "Not yet. Still haven't come up with the right pick up line."

"Let me know if I can help you out with that." Rader was already halfway out the room. "I'll see myself out, Lightman, don't you worry and I'll be in touch. Pleasure doing business with you. As always."

Cal raised his hand to wave him good-bye, even though Rader couldn't see it. "Pleasure's all mine, Jack."

Moritz slinked into the kitchen after Rader left, rubbing himself up against the chair that Cal was sitting in.

"Go check to see if he's gone," Cal told the dog. "Make sure he didn't take anything on the way out."

Moritz stared at him with giant, droopy brown eyes and Cal gave him a little push.

"Go on now..."

The dog ambled down the hallway and Cal watched him.

In spite of all the bravado and sarcasm, the only emotion he felt at the moment was a profound sadness. He'd poured so much of his life into the Lightman Group and he was still fighting to keep it alive even if the only means of doing that was to let someone else run it.

But he'd be lying if he said it didn't break his heart to think it would most likely end up in the hands of Jack Rader.

* * *

><p><em>Lightman Residence, Washington DC <em>

_Later _

Gillian turned on the kettle and then moved away from the kitchen counter back to the pantry, where she lit a candle. The kitchen light was too bright and her eyes were still adjusting and squinting in protest, after she'd only turned it on a few seconds ago.

Once the candle was lit she walked back to the entrance of the kitchen to turn the lights back off.

_That's better. _

Walking back to the kettle she riffled through the box where they kept their tea bags noticing there were only two herbal ones left, jasmine and chamomile. Opting for the latter she tossed it into one of Emily's Berkeley mugs with a yawn, leaning against the kitchen counter while she waited for the kettle to whistle, wanting to catch it before it woke Cal.

It was four in the morning and waking him was the last thing she wanted to do. Cal might not act like he was still injured and recovering from three bullet wounds but he was. Getting enough rest was a big part of his recovery.

It was why she was down here, because earlier tonight Cal had make the arduous trek up the stairs for the first time, loudly declaring to her and Moritz that he was done sleeping on a twin bed downstairs.

It had been nice to have him back in the bedroom, even if they hadn't done much more than kiss and cuddle. The warmth of his skin against hers was a good start.

Then she'd waited for him to fall asleep before moving as far away from him as she could.

"Can't keep doing that..." she thought aloud. And even if she could, she didn't want to. Sooner or later she'd have to find a solution, one where she wasn't terrified of falling asleep and then waking up in a frenzy that might hurt him like it did last time.

Not that it was an issue tonight since she never fell asleep to start.

That was something else she needed a solution for. The fact that she hadn't slept more than a couple of hours at a time in weeks and still had nightmares every single night.

They had to stop at some point, didn't they?

The kettle started to whistle and Gillian grabbed it a couple of seconds after it did. Maybe if she wasn't so ridiculously tired her reflexes would've caught it sooner.

She poured the water into the mug and walked back into the living room with it, nearly screaming and dropping it when two large silhouettes confronted her in the dark.

"Oh my god, Cal..." she breathed. "You scared me."

"Sorry," he told her. "Didn't mean to." He was leaning on to his crutches and Moritz was standing next to him, growling a soft, low growl that sounded a bit like a giant cat purring.

"What are you doing down here?" she asked him.

"Could ask you the same question."

Gillian set down the mug on the coffee table and turned on the lights in the living room, so Cal could see where he was moving. There wasn't much room to manoeuvre around with the crutches after they'd put the twin bed in here. Maybe it was time to put it away now since he'd conquered the stairs.

"Sit down," she gestured.

"Not if you're coming back upstairs."

She hadn't planned on it. "You think that's a good idea...climbing the stairs up and down, twice in one night?"

"That's a deflection, that is." Cal hopped over to the couch, while Moritz lost interest in both of them and went back to lie down in his second favourite spot in the house after their bed, the dog mat by the fireplace. "Fine...I'll sit here with you."

Setting himself down slowly he stared in her direction. "Fetch that candle from the kitchen and turn off the lights, would ya, luv? Too bright in here."

Gillian did as he asked and moved the single candle onto the coffee table in front of them, along with her cup of tea. A soft, warm glow filled the room after she turned off the living room light that he'd turned on. "Do you want a cup too?" she asked him.

"Nah...I'm fine."

She sat down next to him, leaning into him a little while making sure she wasn't putting much pressure on his chest.

"You wanna tell me why you're back down here after it took me weeks to finally get up there?"

Gillian smirked. "Couldn't sleep."

"How come?"

She shrugged. "Had a headache. Thought some herbal tea might help."

"You still getting them?"

"Sometimes."

"Is that normal?"

"I don't know."

She was pretty sure that the ones she was getting lately had nothing to do with the concussion. They weren't that intense anymore. She figured they were a by-product of her inability to sleep compounded with the company stress and the meals she kept skipping because she had no appetite.

"You should see a doctor."

"I will," she agreed. It was easier to agree than argue at four in the morning.

"I'm a doctor you know."

She smiled, wanting to change the subject. "I have good company news. Didn't want to tell you earlier because I told myself I didn't want to get your hopes up but...screw it, I'm too excited about it."

"Really?"

"Alex and I had a meeting with Meridian today."

"Meridian?"

"The insurance company," she explained. "Right now they're using Rader's firm to weed out any fraudulent claims but we found out by chance that their contract is about to end, so we jumped in and made them an offer. I think the meeting went really well."

"Is that right?"

"It's a long shot and we'd have to hire more staff if it happens...but if it does, Cal. It's _huge_. It could put us back on the right track."

She turned around to see his reaction and saw him scrunching up his lips and making the face he sometimes made when he thought about something unpleasant or painful.

It wasn't the reaction she expected. To say the least.

"You think it'd be enough?" he questioned.

It stung a little. His lack of even the slightest enthusiasm for what could turn out to be one of her biggest coups since they started the company. "Maybe not enough...but it's a start. A _huge_ start."

Cal leaned back into the couch and put an arm around her shoulders. "Why are we talking business at four in the morning?"

Gillian raised her eyebrows. Since when _didn't _he want to talk business? Next to Emily, the Lightman Group was his favourite subject of conversation.

He used his other arm to pull her down, until her head was on his lap and she was looking up at him. At the candle lit silhouette of his handsome face.

It was a nice view. Even if she was irritated with him at the moment.

"Cal?"

She used her elbows to turn around and sit but he pushed her back down.

"Stay there," he ordered.

"This can't be comfortable for you..."

"I'm so bloody comfortable, you have no idea."

Gillian twisted her body a little to pull up the fabric of her bathrobe, wrapping it around her. It was chillier down here than up in the bedroom and it was pointless to argue with him. She stretched out on the couch and snuggled into his lap. His thigh was a surprisingly comfortable pillow. "Fine. Don't whine to me when your leg falls asleep."

"No promises."

She looked up at him and caught a trace of one of his irresistible smiles. "So we'll both stay awake down here?"

"No. You go to sleep," he told her. "I'll stay awake. That way you don't have to worry about killing me when you wake up and thrash around like a fish out of water. I'll be awake and prepared."

"You have such a way with words."

"Are you still talking?"

"You should sleep too..."

"I can sleep all day. Not the one who has to get up for work three hours from now."

"Cal...I can't sleep like this..."

"Would you just close your eyes?"

His hands were on her face, thumbs on eyelids, forcing them closed before he started running smooth gentle circles above them, around her eyes and then slowly trailing upwards. His fingers running along her forehead, towards her temples and back again, applying just the right amount of pressure to ease the tension underneath.

"Mmm...that feels nice," she admitted with contented groan.

"Wasn't lying when I said I'm a doctor."

"Do you do lullabies too?"

"Careful what you wish for."

Gillian turned her head a little to give his capable fingers better access, nestling into his thigh so he could resume what he was doing. Letting herself give in to his touch because it felt so good. She was able to relax, knowing he was awake and knowing she couldn't hurt him, even if she did have a nightmare. He knew it too. It was why he was doing this.

"Love you," she mumbled, feeling herself drift off.

"Shhh..."

One of his index fingers trailed along her forehead, down the side of her face, lingering in soft circles along her temple before inching over to her lips, tracing its contours.

They parted a little to let him in and she could feel the tip of her tongue brushing against his fingertip, licking it.

Although she might have been dreaming that last part.


	46. Chapter 46

Sorry for the delay! Crazy month! Hoping to be back to a bi-weekly updating schedule after this. Many thanks for your patience! Shout-out to the reader who asked me a while back whether Jack and Gillian would meet up in this story. I hadn't originally planned on it but it really fit for what I had in mind with the story. I can't remember who suggested it but thank you! Proof that readers' feedback really does inspire us! :)

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 46 <strong>

_Lightman Group Offices, Washington DC _

_One week later _

They were all sitting in the boardroom together, brainstorming and talking over each other. Four cups of near-empty coffee were on the table along with a scattering of paper, folders, four open laptops and two napkins with half-eaten muffins on them. They were trying to squeeze in an hour as a team before Torres headed off to Leslie Rotblatt's office and Alex took off to see another potential client.

"We haven't explored social media at all!" Loker pointed out. "In this day and age..."

Ria Torres gave him a sceptical look. "You want us tweet about our cases?"

"Not about the cases," Loker rolled his eyes. "About the science. One cool fact about deception detection and micro-expressions every day. People love this kind of thing. It'll give us publicity."

Gillian wasn't convinced it would actually bring them business, but what did they have to lose? "Go for it," she told Loker. "Put us on Twitter. And...what about some of the other ones?"

"Facebook," Alex chimed in. "That would be fitting! You know...faces, micro-expressions, _Face_book...get it?"

Ria groaned.

"You want _me_ to do our social media?" Loker asked Foster.

"Who else?"

"Seriously?" Torres cut in, questioning her decision. "You're going to put the Lightman Group on Twitter?"

"It was your idea," Gillian told Loker, ignoring Torres. "Besides, I can't think of anyone more full of...scientific facts than you."

Alex observed them while taking a big bite of his cherry-cheese Danish. "I will follow-up with Ms. Potrovski's friend."

"Good," Gillian nodded. The woman was a friend of one of their recent clients. Apparently she thought some of her housekeeping staff were stealing from her. Gillian had a feeling it was an acute case of neurosis rather than actual theft, but if they could get paid for that diagnosis while interviewing a few domestic workers, that was fine by her.

She made notes of all of it in her computer. Barely noticed that her cell phone was ringing. Until a quick glance at it displayed the caller's name.

Gillian grabbed the phone and held up her hand, signalling for the others to quiet down. "It's Jamieson Hill."

"Who?" Loker asked.

Alex set down his danish and swallowed. "The contact we met with at Meridian."

"Pick it up, pick it up!" Torres exclaimed.

Gillian paused a moment before pressing on the incoming number.

This call had to potential to be either a yes or a no. A turnaround or another setback.

"Good morning, Lightman Group. This is Dr. Foster."

Jamieson Hill was the one who did most of the speaking after she answered the call, her responses mostly monosyllabic while three-pairs of eyes and ears were glued to her every word and expression. Gillian noticed that Alex's fingers were crossed and that Ria was nervously chewing off the top of her pen.

"Yes...absolutely. Tomorrow."

Gillian ended the call.

"Well?" Ria wanted to know, desperately searching for clues on her face.

Gillian wasn't sure what expressions were evident there. She felt slightly dizzy. Stunned and overwhelmed.

"Gillian?" Alex questioned. "Come on...spit it out!"

A slow, giant smile framed her face. "We have...we have a contract with Meridian."

Alex jumped out of his chair with a high-pitched scream, before running up to crush her in a hug that nearly lifted her off the ground. "Oh my god...that is crazy! Crazy! Unbelievable! Amazing! Fabulous!"

Across the table, Loker and Torres gave each other high-fives.

"I second that! We did it!" Loker yelled out loud.

Torres got up and gave Gillian a hug as soon as Alex let go. "_You_ did it," she said softly while the two men yelled something she couldn't make out.

"We all did," Gillian insisted, overcome with emotion, because this was huge. It was multi-million dollar huge and it was exactly the turnaround they needed. And, it was absolutely true, she couldn't have done it without the three of them.

"This calls for champagne, yeah?"

"Better yet...grab Lightman's thirty- year old scotch from my office," Gillian told him.

Torres got up along with him. "I'll bring glasses from the cafeteria and maybe something equally fabulous that I can drink."

Alex picked up Gillian's cell phone and handed it to her. "You have to call Lightman."

"I think I want to tell him this in person."

"Alright..." He set her phone back down on the table. "But I'm sure he'll know something's up the minute he sees your face, especially if you keep grinning like that."

"I can't believe it, Alex..." She was ecstatic. "We're going to have to hire more staff. This company has the potential to start growing again."

"You're excited? You have no idea how excited I am...to go back to learning the science. To working the cases with you and the others."

"Are you kidding? You're the best salesperson this place has ever had!"

"Gillian...tell me you're joking."

"I'm joking... But that last part's true."

He made a face. "Feel free to give me a raise once we start working with Meridian."

"Deal." Gillian was starting to think he was worth his weight in gold. Even taking into account his ample weight.

Loker and Torres came back into room with three glasses and along with yoghurt shake inside a small plastic bottle for Torres.

Loker did the honours, pouring a generous amount of scotch into the three empty glasses, handing one each to Alex and Gillian, before they all raised them in unison, standing next to the board room table, along with Torres who twisted open her yoghurt drink.

"Speech!" Loker shouted.

"Dream on," Gillian shot back. "To the Lightman Group," she announced when their glasses clinked together. "To us and our future in it. To a good future. Together."

She drank the whiskey slowly, letting it warm her throat and then go straight to her head.

Loker grinned after he downed the contents of his glass in one gulp. "Not bad."

"My speech or the scotch?"

"Both."

"You can give the next one," Gillian told him. "When we land our next major contract."

"I can't believe you're all drinking whiskey at nine in the morning," Torres pointed out.

"It's two o'clock in Scotland," Alex pointed out.

"Don't be a hater," Loker told her with a smirk. "Just because you can't have any."

"It's _your _fault I can't have any," she pointed out, sending an elbow into his ribs.

Gillian watched them, happy to see the tension and hostility between them gone now. Their ribbing wasn't the least bit mean spirited and Ria was amused more than anything. Sometimes she'd even catch a moment of affection between them, subtle touches and kisses when they thought no one was looking. It made her happy. Made her hope that the two of them might actually be in it for the long haul.

_The Lightman Group kids are growing up before our eyes. Having kids of their own. _

Gillian pointed to the bottle. "Who's up for a second round?"

"Bring it on," Loker agreed.

"You're slightly crazier than I thought," Alex told her.

Gillian grinned and poured him some more.

It was going to be a good day.

* * *

><p><em>Later <em>

After an hour with a new divorce client in the Cube, Gillian heard her phone ring the second she stepped back into Lightman's office.

She sprinted over to his desk to pick it up. "Lightman Group."

She read the name on the call display. It was her real estate agent. "Vince, what's going on?"

_"I had a bidding war this morning!" _

"What?"

_"Your place. Two buyers are fighting over it. One of them is offering twenty-thousand over the asking price." _

Gillian raised her brows. "Are you serious? I thought you said it might be a hard sell considering...what happened there."

_"I don't think our two potential buyers scare easily."_

"What do you mean?"

_"Looked them up online. Russian mobster or good old American crook, take your pick." _

Gillian winced, thinking back to how much she used to love that house when she first moved in. The comfort and solace she'd found in its warm wooden interior after her divorce. How much she loved the beautiful neighbourhood.

Now all it did was remind her of that night and make her skin crawl at the thought of stepping back inside it.

_"Gillian?" _

"It's great news, Vince. You're amazing," she managed. "Sell it to the highest bidder and send me the paperwork."

_"Will do. Did I mention the guy wants to take possession before the end of the month." _

"No, problem," she told him. "I can arrange for movers before the end of the day."

_"This is great news, Gillian." _

"Yeah, yeah it is..." It was but this time it didn't feel like it. "I'll sign the papers as soon as you send them."

_"Sending them right now." _

"Thank you." She exchanged a few more pleasantries with him and then ended the call, suddenly feeling exhausted.

It was less than two weeks until the end of the month. Less than two weeks to get everything she owned out of her house and put it where? In storage? Where else would it go? She'd done this once before right after her divorce. Had left more of her things at the old house than she'd planned. Alec didn't care. He'd probably thrown it out or given it away. Or maybe he tried selling some of it to fund the habit he hadn't been able to break anymore. God knows his finances had been a mess near the end of their marriage.

He'd been the one to insist on separate banking accounts, right from the start. As if he'd somehow known what might happen in the end. It was his way of telling her he loved her enough to not want her to go down the drain with him. At least not financially.

Gillian leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. Pressed her middle and index finger against the top of the bridge of her nose. Maybe two glasses of scotch when she only had a yoghurt for breakfast wasn't the best idea this morning. Even if she didn't care at the time.

Selling the house would answer their financial problems in one fell swoop. She could pay off the company debts, put the firm back on a clean slate ready to hire and expand once more _and_ she'd still have enough left over to put down a sizeable down payment for something new.

_Until then where am I going to live? _

The thought hadn't even entered her mind when she made the decision to sell the house.

Subconsciously she assumed she'd stay with Cal. Truth was, she loved his place and felt like she belonged there. Most of all she loved coming home to him every night. In turn, Cal seemed to enjoy having her and Moritz around just as much.

But they'd never discussed the idea of her moving in permanently.

The only thing they did agree on was that she would stay there while Cal was recovering. But he was getting better and more mobile every day. He wouldn't need her around much longer.

Gillian bit her lip and panicked a little when she realized the enormity of her assumption. She assumed that he'd want her to stay even after he'd fully recovered, because it's what she wanted.

_But are we even at the moving-in stage yet? _

Or maybe she was worried for nothing. Maybe it wasn't such a crazy assumption. Now that she didn't have blinders on anymore, she could see and hear how much he loved her with every moment they spent together. Cal Lightman was crazy about her and he was the best thing in her life right now. He was the only one who made her feel good and safe these days.

Gillian had a feeling that telling him she sold the house to help pay off their debts would be a much harder conversation to have than telling him she might need a place to stay for a while.

_He'll be pissed. _

He had every right to be and she knew that he wouldn't have agreed with it. He had a right to be part of her decision and nothing got him more riled up than her taking charge of the company finances. She'd done it before and it had made him angry enough to threaten an end to their partnership.

_It's why I didn't tell you. Because I knew you wouldn't have agreed. _

Gillian shivered, cold all of a sudden. Dreading the argument they would have about it tonight.

Maybe if she told him about the Meridian contract first it would soften the blow.

Yes, definitely. That's what she would do tonight. Good news first.

But for now she had more pressing concerns. Like finding a moving company and going over the legal documents that were now in the her e-mail inbox.

She stared across Cal's cavernous office with a sigh, at the giant leather couch in her direct line of view and thought about how inviting and comfortable it looked. She longed to lie down on it and have a nap. Even if only for a few minutes.

The time on her laptop was 4:15pm. Torres wouldn't stop by until 5:30pm at the earliest to go over the day's caseload from Leslie Rotblatt's office with her.

Sure there were e-mails to send and papers to sign. But the world wouldn't implode if she sent them tomorrow.

Gillian got up and walked across the room, closing the door of Cal's office without locking it before curling up on the couch. She set the alarm app on her Iphone for quarter after five. And if Torres was early...well, then, she'd wake her up anyway.

* * *

><p><em>Sibley Memorial Hospital, Center for Rehabilitation Medicine , Washington DC<em>

"At the risk of it going to your head, you're making incredible progress, Dr. Lightman."

Cal ignored his physiotherapist and grunted a little as he took another step between the two wooden beams, hanging on to them without letting them support the bulk of his weight, forcing his injured leg to take on at least some of it again.

He could feel the pressure when he did, because he was pushing himself and because he'd tapered off the painkillers in spite of the doctors telling him it was probably too soon for both. But he'd gotten tired of the side effects of the medication and wanted to know exactly how much he could push himself. Wanted his body to let him know.

Cal's chest felt tight and heavy and his knee throbbed with every step, but neither sensation was unbearable. It meant he could keep going.

"Try and bend your knee a little with the next step, just before you push off..."

He could feel the physiotherapist's hand on his thigh when he took the next step, aligning it so his gait looked slightly more normal. Or at least by his standards. He'd never had great posture or an elegant stride and he wasn't aiming for that now. Functional was the goal here.

"That's it, good job, let's do it again," the physio announced after he reached the end of the beams and turned around, mistakenly thinking he needed a pat on the back. Cal bit his tongue. That was one cringe-inducing part of American culture he still had no use for. But, misguided positivity aside, Cal was starting to realize the young keener with the perfect teeth was actually good at what he did. He probably wouldn't have come this far if he wasn't.

Now if only he'd stop talking.

"If you keep this up we'll have you off the crutches in a coupla weeks, Dr. Lightman." He grinned a wide American grin. "We'll switch you to a cane, like that cranky English doctor on TV."

Cal grit his teeth and took another step, clutching the wooden beams a little tighter.

_Piss off. _

One week, he decided with the next step. He'd be rid of the crutches in one week.

* * *

><p><em>Lightman Group Offices<em>

"No wonder your company's in the toilet if this is how you run your business!"

The man's voice was so loud it startled her out of sleep and made Gillian push herself off the couch she'd been napping on. She did it so fast and awkwardly that her hand slipped off its edge and she nearly ended up on the floor.

A man wearing a suit she didn't recognize stood right next to her and for a split second she panicked.

That's when the man backed off. He was as startled by her reaction as she was by his presence. Blinking rapidly gave her eyes the chance to focus and recognize who was standing next to her. A quick glance at the clock on the wall told her she hadn't been asleep for more than thirty minutes.

"Jack?" Anger quickly replaced her fear. "What the hell gives you the right to barge into my office?"

Jack Rader looked at her strangely. There were a lot of emotions on his face but she wasn't awake enough yet to read most of them.

"You want to tell _me _what the hell is going on Foster?"

"What?" Gillian got up, straightened her skirt, tucked a strand of hair behind her ears and slipped into her heels, aiming for some sort of professional equality between them. Even if was a futile effort. She must have looked like she just rolled out of bed.

"You know, it was my fault for being stupid enough to buy a single thing that comes out of Lightman's mouth. The guy's been an asshole and a liar for as long as I've known him. For someone so supposedly renowned, he has a hell of an inferiority complex. Maybe it's a size thing..."

"Cut it out!" Gillian wasn't in the mood for this. "What do you want?"

Rader moved right into her space, the way Cal did sometimes. "But _you_..." Accusation was written all over him. "I always thought _you_ were better than that, Gillian. But I guess if you hang around with crooks long enough, you can't help but turn into one of them yourself."

She was starting to think she was dreaming because none of this made sense.

"You come in and steal my biggest client..."

"_Steal_?" Gillian narrowed her brows. So_ that's_ what this was about. "Meridian's contract with you expired and they were looking for other,_ better_ options. We gave them one. It's a free market, Rader. They're allowed to choose who they do business with. There's nothing nefarious or illegal about what we did."

"You really think there's nothing wrong with begging me to buy your company one day and then stealing my biggest client the next?" Rader questioned. Disappointment. That's what she heard in his voice now, even if she didn't understand the question.

"Begging you to buy our company?" She was starting to wonder if he was drunk. Or high. Or just plain insane. "What are you talking about?"

Rader stared at her, as if trying to figure something out. "I'm talking about Lightman. Inviting me to his house and making me an offer to buy the Lightman Group."

"What?" This was so ludicrous she wanted to laugh.

Rader paused, eyeing her and reading her, the way Cal often did. The two men were so much more alike than they'd ever admit. His dark pupils expanded a little, understanding dawning on him.

"Wow...you really don't know, do you?"

"Know _what_?" This whole encounter was irritating her.

"You don't know that Lightman tried to sell me your company. He didn't even tell you, did he?"

Gillian looked at him in disbelief. He had to be joking. There was no way Cal would make Rader an offer for the Lightman Group without telling her. Not after she'd spent the last month pouring everything she had into this company in order to keep it going.

There was no way he'd do that to her.

"You've lost your mind. Cal wouldn't..."

"Wouldn't _what_?" Rader barked. Anger and pity. She heard both in his voice. "Make one of the Group's most important decisions without consulting his partner?"

Gillian refused to believe it, even as an angry heat started to flush her face.

"It's not like you've been playing second fiddle to him the last ten years or anything," Rader raised an index finger to the ceiling, mimicking a eureka moment. "Oh wait..."

"You're saying Cal made you an offer on the Lightman Group?"

"Yes," he looked at her. "That is what I'm saying. I don't know how else you want me to spell it out for you." The anger was gone, replaced by something that looked vaguely like sympathy. "Last week. He asked me to come see him at his home during the day. Seeing as he isn't very mobile yet. He's got a huge Bernese Mountain dog now, if that's enough proof for you."

Gillian swallowed. She was sure her face was glowing red from all the hurt, anger and disbelief that Rader's words had stirred up.

"It's funny... I asked him about you that day. Why you weren't in the room with us and he just kinda shrugged it off."

Rader sat down on the couch while she remained standing, his shoulders relaxing. "You know what else is funny?" He turned his chin up towards her. "Is that I was so pissed off when I heard about Meridian, I was all set to come in here and rip this place apart. To tell you exactly what I thought about your little con job...but now, looking at you...the only thing I feel is sorry for you. Because it's obvious we both got conned."

"I don't need your pity, Jack."

"Nah..." he clasped his fingers together, suddenly pensive. "You're right. You don't. But I do wonder how such a smart woman can be so stupid. At least I learn from my lessons."

Gillian tightened her lips. A lecture wasn't what she was hoping for either.

"You know...Lightman goes out of his way to paint me as a sleazeball. I'm the slick, businessman who doesn't who doesn't know the science and doesn't have any scruples." He exhaled. "Tell, you what, Gillian. He's right about that part. When it comes to business I don't care who I have to push out of the way to succeed. I'm not ashamed to admit it. It's why my company's a success...and why it'll continue to be, even after losing my biggest client." He stood back up. "But I'll tell you one thing I'd never do...is treat my friend and partner the way he treats you. That's where I draw the line. Maybe I'm not the jerk here after all."

He stood in front of her. Letting her read his face and voice to hammer in the fact that he meant what he was saying. "You might be his equity partner on paper but the Lightman Group is always gonna be Lightman's baby. He is _never_ going to see you as an equal. Cal doesn't deserve you. Never did."

"Go away, Jack," she sadly softly, too shell-shocked for an argument. Still reeling from what he'd told her.

Rader nodded. "I don't have anything left to say anyway. Tell Lightman he can keep his offer and his ailing company. Spending a few million right after losing my biggest client probably isn't in my best interests, even if I could trust your partner. And we both know I can't."

If he was waiting for a response he wasn't getting one.

"Wish I could say it was a pleasure, Foster."

He gave her a mock salute on the way out. Turning around one last time before he stepped through the doorway. "Let me know when you've finally come to your senses. Always a place for you in my company..." A disarming smile raised his lips. "Maybe when you do join the Dark Side you can bring Meridian back with you."

Gillian stood still where she was. Momentarily immobile.

She listened to the sound of Rader's footsteps echoing down the corridor. Torn between needing a release for her anger and wanting to cry.

* * *

><p><em>Lightman Residence. Washington DC <em>

Cal heard the door opening. Heard someone step inside and then saw Moritz running towards the door. Heard Gillian's voice mumble something to the dog. Relieved that it was her voice he heard.

It was late. Way later than she usually came home and she hadn't answered any of his texts asking where she was. Neither of it was like her and he was worried. It didn't help that she hadn't been herself since the shooting.

"Gillian?" he called out to her and it was several long moments before she stepped into his line of vision.

She hadn't taken off her trench coat yet, which struck him as odd, because normally it was the first thing she did when she stepped into the house.

He read her familiar face once she was close enough, bristling at what he saw. "What's wrong, luv?"

"Is it true?" she asked him. Her usually warm voice was icy. Unrecognizable. "Did you really try to sell our company last week without telling me?"


	47. Chapter 47

**Chapter 47 **

_Lightman Residence, Washington DC _

_"Is it true? Did you really try to sell our company last week without telling me?" _

Cal's gaze settled on her and it rattled him that she was standing on the edge of his living room not taking off her coat. That's what stood out to him. The message it gave him that she wasn't staying. The godawful way_ that_ made him feel. More so than the words that came out of her mouth. "What are you talking about, luv?"

"I got a visit from Jack Rader today," she answered, her voice sending a chill to his bones. "He told me you begged him to buy our company last week." A pair of angry blue eyes focused on his. "I thought he was crazy. I almost laughed!"

Cal swallowed. His mouth suddenly dry. "Gill..."

"Tell me he's crazy, Cal. Tell me that he lied to me and made all that up. Tell me that after everything we've been through this year, there's no way you would have gone and done something like that behind my back!"

"I _met _with him," he admitted. "I wanted to see if he'd bite. That's all. I would've told you before we made any decisions."

"Really?" She took a step towards him. "Why? Because you think I have a right to know as your partner, or because you have a legal obligation to tell me?"

"Gill, this is madness. 'Course I would've told you. It's your company too."

"Is it?"

"Course it is." He wished she'd come further inside. Sit down at the dining room table because he was still too unsteady on his feet for his liking. "What the hell did Rader tell you?"

"The truth apparently."

"You know what the numbers are, " he argued. "You_ know _there's no way out of this! I was trying to find a way to save the company. So yeah...selling it and keeping everyone in it employed was an option to me. A better one than bankruptcy."

"And you decided all this on your own without once thinking to tell your partner? So that maybe she wouldn't have to hear it from the competition?"

"I should've told you that I met with Rader," he admitted.

Her brows narrowed and for a moment she looked even more pissed off than she did a second ago. "No...you should have told me you were thinking about it _before _you met with Rader! Even now, you still can't wrap your head around the idea that we run this company together. You see me the same way you see Loker and Torres. I'm just one of your damn employees."

"That's not true..." Cal closed his eyes wanting to take the last words he said and wipe them from both their memories. "I meant I should have told you about meeting with Rader. That's what I meant. I should have told you about it _before_."

"Freudian slip then?"

"No." It wasn't. It was a stupid Lightman slip of the tongue. Nothing more, nothing less. "Gill, I'm sorry. Didn't mean to hurt you with what I did. That's what I'm trying to say."

"Is it?"

"But I saw the numbers," he tried to explain. "Saw how bloody impossible it is to get out of the hole that we're in and every time I wanted to talk about it with you, you shut me down. I had to do something! Couldn't just sit at home and watch soap operas while I wait for the day that we declare bankruptcy!"

"Let's get our facts straight, Cal," she hissed. "You are all about the truth, after all. You opened my laptop the minute I left the house to look at all the numbers I specifically asked you not to look at. You didn't happen to stumble across them."

"You've been treating me with kid gloves since I got shot!" he argued. "I'm supposed to sit back blindly while you handle everything? What the hell else was I supposed to do?"

"I don't know...respect my wishes for once in your life?"

"Look...I'm sorry, luv. Really am. But truth is...we're in a mess that's so deep we don't have a lot of choices and if you refuse to discuss the ones we do have, what else can I do but go behind your back?"

Disbelief lined her tired eyes. "I don't remember you ever coming up to me and saying, 'honey, how do you feel about selling our multi-million dollar business?' Think I might have been willing to discuss that. But it's easier to say your hands were tied and you had no choice but to do whatever the hell you wanted to, isn't it?"

"Do you think I _want_ to sell the company?" he questioned angrily.

"No," she shook her head. "No...I don't think that for one minute. But I do think you don't believe the company belongs to anyone else but you. It doesn't matter that I'm the one who's been running the place for nearly a month, that I spent fourteen hours in Leslie Rotblatt's office on Christmas Day to make sure we could meet our next payroll, that I send Alex running around several states looking for clients, or even that I legally own half of it on paper...none of it matters. If Cal Lightman thinks that selling the place is the only option, then that's what he'll do. Because in his heart of hearts it's _his _burden, _his _company and _his_ name on the door!"

Her anger was almost palpable now. He felt it floating in the air. So thick he could reach out and touch it.

Her words made him angry too. Maybe because she was right and he didn't like having it thrown in his face. It was true. All of it. He did think of the Group as his. Always had and always would. Even way back when they'd signed the partnership papers and he'd begged her to come on board.

He was probably past apologizing anyway.

"Then _you _tell me what we can do about the numbers," he said softly. "Tell me what possible options we have?"

"Oh, _now_ you want my opinion."

"Always wanted it, luv."

"We have a huge new contract. Meridian signed on with us."

"They did?"

"Yeah...they did."

"That's incredible..."

It was more than that. It might well be the biggest contract they'd ever scored. But he knew that it still wasn't enough. "What about the debts?"

"The debts are going to be paid off by this time next week."

"What?" He couldn't read her at all anymore. Aside from the obvious anger that was still there. Couldn't make sense of what she was saying either.

"The debts won't be an issue anymore," she repeated.

"How?" Part of him didn't want to ask because he was convinced if it was possible it couldn't be legal and Gillian didn't have a criminal bone in her body. Or did she?

"I sold my house."

"_You did what_?" Cal did a double-take. "Or you mad?" He stared at her. "Have you completely lost your mind?"

The thought of Gillian selling the house she loved to save his company made his skin crawl. "How could you make that kind of decision without..."

"Without _what_?" she cut him off. "_Telling you_? At least it's my house to sell. I don't have another owner that I forgot to notify!"

"Where the hell are you gonna live if you don't have a home?"

"I was thinking maybe I'd stay here for a while." Gillian stared at him, her blue eyes watering. "Clearly that was an insane idea too."

That wasn't really what he meant to say. Not at all. Of course he wanted her here. Wanted nothing more than that. But not like this. He wanted her here because it's what she wanted. Not because she no longer had a home.

But that might not have been what she heard.

"It's not what I meant...I want you here." In spite of his anger he needed to clarify that.

Gillian fastened the belt on her coat. "I don't want to be here."

She was crying now and Cal wanted to kick himself. "Don't leave like this."

Judging from the steps she took towards the door she'd already made up her mind. Few things got to him more than seeing her cry.

"I've made enough stupid decisions lately. I don't want to stay and make another one."

Cal hopped after her, wanting to find some sort of straw, literally and figuratively, to grab hold of, no matter how tenuous.

But he was too slow and awkward and Gillian took full advantage of it, picking up the pace before slamming the door behind her.

By the time he got to the door and opened it, she was already in the car, pulling out of the driveway. "Gillian!" he yelled after her but she ignored him and drove off. "I'll have you know that this..._this is not a fair fight_!"

Moritz was standing next to him now. Watching Gillian's car grow smaller in the distance. He craned his head out the door and looked perplexed when his head turned back before turning back towards Cal. The dog clearly wanted an explanation.

"Don't ask..." Cal mumbled.

Moritz kept staring at him and Cal felt a weight the size of Manhattan settle on his shoulders. She'd taken all of this the wrong way. He had no intention of hurting her. None. Not by making Rader an offer or by pointing out the madness of selling her place to settle his debts.

An unease settled into his gut, not entirely unlike the one he felt after that horrible night in his office. For someone so adept at reading emotions he could be shockingly inept at doing anything about the things he saw.

"Don't look at me like that," he chided Moritz. "I get it. I'm a wanker."

The dog did a little head tilt in agreement, followed by an unsatisfied growl.

"I'm gonna fix it," he told Moritz. "I'll find her and I'll fix it."

Because one thing was certain, he wasn't going to lose her again.

* * *

><p><em>Later <em>

The cab driver stopped in front of her house.

"This it?" he asked.

"Yeah." Cal's head turned sideways out the window of the car and saw Foster's house. It was dark, without a single visible light turned on.

Didn't mean she wasn't inside brooding in the dark. Not that Gillian Foster was much of a brooder. That was his speciality.

There was a realtor sign next to the door, the "For Sale" part covered by a small diagonal stripe with the word "Sold" written on it in bold letters.

Cal hated what she did. Hated that she thought she had to sell her home to save his company. _Their _company.

He really did think of the Lightman Group as his. Gillian hadn't been wrong with that accusation. Although she was wrong in thinking he didn't consider her his partner. One didn't equal the other.

Cal debated asking the cab driver to go knock on the door. To see if she was there.

But then he changed his mind. If she was in there, she probably wouldn't answer if he knocked and the last thing Cal wanted was to spook her by having a stranger pound on the door, not after what happened there.

"Need you to wait here," Cal told the cab driver as he grabbed his crutches and opened the passenger door.

"Gonna have to keep the meter running then," the driver told him.

"You do that," Cal grumbled, struggling to find his balance before he got the crunches out, increasingly frustrated with his lack of mobility. He dropped one of the crutches and bent down to pick it up. The taxi driver watched him through the rear-view mirror. "S'alright, I'm good. Don't get off your arse."

He slammed the car shut behind him and limped towards her house, digging for the key in his pant pocket.

Cal turned on the lights after he opened the door and stepped inside. It looked empty and lifeless and painfully different from the house that was etched in his memory. Maybe Gillian being inside it was an integral part of his memories. He also recalled her house always being warm, because in the winter Gillian would crank up the heat not caring about the bills she'd incur as a result.

There were other memories that dancing in his mind as he walked through her house; the sound of soft jazz music playing in the living room and the smell of coffee brewing in the kitchen.

None of those things were present now and the place was freezing. That was the first blindingly obvious clue that she wasn't here.

Seeing how desolate the place was made him question whether she'd been here at all since the shooting. Of course she would have had to get her belongings. Clothing, toiletries, dog food...among other things.

_Probably should've asked. _

_Should've been the one who went with you. _

Cal scrunched his lips thinking back to his conversation with Wallowski.

_"Did she go back to the house yet?" _

_"What?" _

_"I called Foster last week to tell her she could go back to her house. If she wanted to." _

_"She hasn't mentioned it." _

It suddenly occurred to him too that Gillian had bought new clothes recently. Work suits he'd never seen before. He noticed but never thought to ask why. He'd been too consumed with his recovery and the mess that was the Lightman Group.

Of course Gillian helped him along by never talking about anything personal since the shooting.

Cal Lightman always pushed to get at the truth. Why didn't he do it this time?

_Because you made it too easy not to. _

Cal glanced at the staircase. Debating whether to attempt the trek. Just in case she was camping out in a dark, cold room upstairs.

"Gillian!" he yelled up the staircase. "If you're up there, lemme know. _Please_." If she was up there she'd have heard the pleading hitch in his last word.

She wouldn't make him climb the stairs in his current state, would she? No matter how angry she was, that wouldn't be like her. It was the fundamental difference between her and Zoe. Unlike Foster, his ex-wife wouldn't hesitate to fight dirty. It's why she was such a fantastic lawyer.

Then again. He'd been wrong before.

Cal eyed the staircase and laboriously started making his way up, one painfully slow step at a time. Thinking of the taxi meter that was running outside made him wince a little more with every inch he climbed. Sweat ran along his brows by the time he got to the top and turned on the lights.

There were only two bedrooms and a bathroom upstairs. It wasn't a big house.

He'd slept in the smaller guest bedroom more than once in the early days after her divorce and sometimes after a rough night at the bar, when they'd both needed the company and he'd been happy to oblige.

More recently, he'd grown familiar with the larger bedroom too. With its impossibly soft sheets and the warm down comforter on Gillian's queen sized-bed. His bare feet were also familiar with the large sheepskin rug that covered most of the hardwood floor. Her bedroom was surprisingly plain and unadorned. Aside from a bedside stand there was little furniture and no paintings on the wall.

He'd never paid attention to the lack of decor before tonight. Maybe because he'd rarely paid much attention to anything else but her when they were in this room together.

It didn't take Cal long to confirm Gillian wasn't here.

He turned off the lights and slowly made his way back down the stairs. He knees throbbed in protest by the time he slipped back into the taxi, making him wish he hadn't sworn off the painkillers yet.

He leaned back in the seat and gave the driver another address.

* * *

><p><em>Lightman Group Offices<em>

_Washington DC_

She'd come here because she couldn't think of anywhere else to go. Because her own home wouldn't have been an option, even if she hadn't just sold it. Because she was too tired to search for a hotel room and because it was too late to call the two or three friends she considered close enough to ask them to stay at their place tonight.

Besides, Cal's cavernous office could easily double as an emergency hotel room.

The small, private room behind his main office was where a young Emily had often camped out after school, waiting for her father to finish work. The leather sofa there was comfortable enough to sleep on and the room came with a sink and a tiny kitchenette. There was a library in here too. Enough books to keep her occupied a few months, years even, if she wanted to sink into them.

It's where Gillian was sitting now. Inside that little hidden room. Heels, jacket and briefcase on the floor, while she was curled up on the leather couch with a wool blanket draped over her legs.

She wiped a tear from her eyes, angry at herself because she'd sworn she was done crying. Had done enough of it this past month to last for a lifetime.

Gillian glimpsed at the scar running down her arm when she reached to pull the blanket closer and it reminded her of all the things that brought her here. The growing company debts, the police lawsuit, Cal's uncontrollable anger, her leaving the company, interviewing Hunter Kline, seeing him again at the prison, watching him shoot Cal shot in front of her eyes...

Goosebumps lined up alongside her scar and she shivered. Afraid.

She'd been so damn afraid since the shooting. All the time. Afraid to be alone. Afraid to step back into her home. Afraid to sleep.

And here she was alone. Again. One table lamp still lit, because she was too afraid to turn off all the lights, even though she was craving darkness right now.

Her eyes spied the half-empty decanter of scotch standing on the windowsill.

Gillian exhaled, wanted to get up and bring it over to her.

She thought of her ex-husband and the release he used to seek from his favourite white powder at the end of a stressful day. She'd tried so long and so hard to be the one he'd seek instead, to give him the escape he needed, but she'd lost that battle.

Now she was the one who wanted to start drinking and not stop until she passed out.

She couldn't remember ever wanting an escape from world around her this badly and for the first time in her life she envied Alec.

_He knew what to do to make these feelings go away. I don't. _

She couldn't even pinpoint why it all hurt so much. Whether it was Cal stabbing her in the back by going to Rader after everything they'd been through, or whether it was because she wasn't herself anymore and this new Gillian made her want to crawl out of her skin.

Gillian fisted a part of the blanket in her hand and fought back the urge to get the scotch. The only thing holding her back was knowing it would be Loker or Torres, or worse, Alex, who would find her here, hung over, or worse, tomorrow morning if she did. And her pride was one of the few things she still had left these days.

A metallic noise interrupted her dark thoughts sending every fibre of her already heightened awareness on alert. It's what anxiety did to you. It made you hyper-sensitive to everything.

Gillian swallowed. It was probably nothing. A gust of wind from outside. It was February and freezing outside.

Then she heard it again. The sound of someone tugging at the doorknob.

Heart pounding, Gillian's eyes widened in fear. She'd locked the door and only the Group's employees had a key.

She heard the door opening, her body in full panic mode now when she heard steps in the office outside. Followed by a familiar voice calling her name.

"Gillian!" Cal's voice called out. Heart in her gut, she didn't answer. Maybe he wouldn't poke his head into this room and leave again.

_As if. _

Of course she was wrong. The door to the back room swung open and Cal turned on the lights, making her squint in the brightness.

For a moment he seemed as stunned to see her as she was to see him. Their eyes met across the room and she could see his discomfort even from a short distance. How hard it was for him to walk across the room, making her feel guilty and wonder how much unnecessary walking he'd done tonight.

She fought back her feelings. Too much empathy might've made her a good therapist but it was also one of her biggest weaknesses.

_I didn't ask you to come here._

Cal slowly made his way across the small room and set himself down next to her.

Gillian instincts wanted to help him, at least to set aside the crutches, but she didn't.

So he did it himself and then took a deep breath before turning to her. "You know...this...you and me. It's not gonna work if we can't have a fight without you running off."

Gillian blushed. _Bastard. _

"It's also not gonna work if you can't bring yourself to think of me as your equal."

The corner of his lips rose in the faintest smile. "Touché."

Relieved as she was that the intruder wasn't anyone else, she didn't want him here. "Is that all this is to you, a fight?"

Cal exhaled. "Probably not...but whatever you wanna call it we're not gonna solve it if we're at opposite ends of the city."

"Go away, Cal," she said softly. "Not in the mood for round two."

He turned around and put a hand on her thigh, sending a sliver of electricity up her skin. "You do this _all the time_, Gill. We hit an obstacle and then you shut me out. You run away or put up walls...you can't keep doing that. If you do...we don't stand a bloody chance."

Gillian tightened her lips. Funny. That it was her dysfunctional habits that were going to be their downfall. Not his.

"What you did...it makes me so angry. If you stay all I'm going to do is yell at you."

"Well, go on then. Yell at me."

Gillian stared at him.

"Probably deserve it," he added.

Gillian sighed. As angry as she was, hearing him say it reminded her why she loved him so much. If nothing else, Cal Lightman was always man enough to own up to his screw ups. "I might if I thought it would do any good or change anything."

"Ouch."

"It's true, isn't it?"

His grey-green-hazel eyes looked into her as he pondered the question. "Nah...don't agree. Wouldn't be the first time you've changed me."

Gillian didn't buy it. Not tonight. "I mean it, Cal. Go home."

"Not unless you're coming with me."

She pushed back the blanket, tossed it onto the floor and sat up, slipping back into her heels. "Fine...if you won't leave."

"Gillian..."

She'd already put on her jacket and taken a step away from him when he grabbed her wrist, holding on to it tightly. Knowing if he'd let go she'd walk away and that he wasn't in any shape to follow her a second time tonight. "Where are you gonna go, luv?"

Gillian didn't answer him because she didn't have an answer. Not for him or herself. She didn't try to wriggle out of his grip either. It made him loosen his hold. Enough so that his thumb was able to run a few gentle strokes across the top of her hand.

"Please. Stay."

She closed her eyes wanting to crawl out of her skin all over again. Nothing felt right anymore.

"Gill..." He squeezed her hand a little. "If you really can't stand to be around me tonight, then go to my place. Stay there. I'll stay here."

"It's not my place to go to, Cal. I get that now."

Cal stared at her in silence. "That's not true," he whispered.

Gillian wasn't convinced and he must have seen it. What she did see was that she'd hurt him with what she said.

"I hate that you sold the house to pay off the debts. _Hate it_. But let me be clear on this..." Cal paused letting her know he wanted her to read him. "I want you with me every chance I get. If what I said before when I was pissed off made you think otherwise, then I want you to know it's not true. You being in my house makes it feel like a home again. Hasn't felt like it since Emily left."

This time she was certain he meant it.

"I want you to move in with me," he added. "I wanna be really clear about that too."

Gillian didn't say anything. She still didn't make an effort to slip out of his grasp.

"Remember Vegas? When I asked you to marry me?" He smirked. "You thought I was kidding but I wasn't. If you'd said yes, I'd have turned the car around. We both know I'm gonna ask you again...but this time I'll wait 'til you're ready to say yes."

"I'm so angry with you right now..."

"I know."

"If you could stop making it so hard to be, I'd appreciate it."

He chuckled. "Sorry."

"No, you're not."

"No...you're right, I'm not."

"There are things that need to change between us, Cal. Especially when it comes to the Lightman Group."

"Yeah..." he agreed, tightening his hold on her wrist and tugging her back towards him.

She let him pull her down to the sofa next to him and let him put his arm around her. Hating that it felt so good to be this close to him when another part of her wanted to give him a hefty push in the opposite direction. "I want you to know that it hurt, Cal," she told him. "After spending a month giving everything to keep our company going, to have Rader waltz into my office and tell me that you tried to sell it behind my back? It hurt."

"I know," he acknowledged. "I'm sorry."

He was. She could see that on his face too.

"Did it mostly because I didn't think we had a choice. I wanted to do whatever it took to keep the place standing. But it wasn't the only reason."

She questioned what he meant with one silent glance in his direction.

"I see you come home at the end of the day...and I wonder much longer before you can't do this anymore. Before we leave the house in an ambulance. I don't want to sit around and wait for it to happen."

"_What_?"

"You're not okay, Gill. Not mentally, not physically and if push really comes to shove, I'd rather sell the damn company than watch it kill you."

Why did this suddenly feel like an ambush? "It's been a stressful month, Cal...but you're being ridiculous."

"Am I?"

"Yes. You are."

"When's the last time you slept an entire night? Or ate a whole meal? Or didn't wake up from a nightmare? Have you had a look in the mirror lately?"

Gillian bit her lip and turned away from him. This was the last thing she wanted to discuss right now.

"Have you even been back to your place before you decided to sell it?" Cal craned his neck in her direction so he could catch the micro-expressions on her face. "Yeah...didn't think so."

"This is so unfair..."

"Hey..." His hand found her chin and cupped itself underneath it as he made her face him. "There's only so much I can see every day while we keep pretending everything's okay. I love you too much to sit back and watch you self-destruct."

"These things...they'll pass."

"No," he corrected her. "They won't. Not if you won't even admit there's a problem."

"What do you want me to do? See a shrink?"

"I want to be honest with me," he told her. "Why'd you really sell the house?"

"You know why I sold the house."

"I'm starting to think it's not the only reason."

It got to her. The myriad of emotions on his face. Ranging from sadness to understanding to disappointment. She never used to mind when he tried to read her. Partly because he wasn't always successful and partly because she really, truly didn't care. She had nothing to hide from Cal Lightman. And that was true from the very start of their friendship. Sometimes she even enjoyed the game. Teasing him with what she knew he could see, knowing he'd never act on anything.

But now it was different. Loving him made her more vulnerable to his skills. And now that she had things to hide, she hated her transparency.

"You ever gonna be honest with me again?"

She felt the tears well up in her eyes again. "Okay...if that's what you think you want...I'll be honest with you."


	48. Chapter 48

**Chapter 48**

_Lightman Group Offices_

_"Okay, if that's what you think you want...I'll be honest with you." _

"Why would you think it's not what I want?"

Gillian Foster let his words linger. Of course she knew the truth meant everything to him and if anyone wasn't afraid of the truth being harsh and ugly it was Cal Lightman.

But the truth was always different when it concerned the people you loved.

She'd watched the world's greatest deception expert deceive himself about the state of his own marriage for a long time before he was willing to accept _that_ truth.

Had watched him torment himself over the death of his mother, even though that truth was staring him in the face too.

_It's always different. _

Cal asked the question gently, all the anger from their earlier argument gone now.

Part of her wanted to answer him honestly too. And another part of her wanted anything but.

_Because I'm not sure you want to be with someone who's broken. _

_Because I'm scared that if I tell you the truth it might scare you. _

_Because it scares me._

"I haven't been okay since the shooting," she finally admitted out loud. "And I don't know what do about it. It scares me, Cal...because if I don't know, who does? I'm the expert here...I can't even count the number of vets I treated for a whole assortment of post-traumatic stress disorders back at the Pentagon and here I am, useless at helping myself."

"You think you should be able to?" he questioned.

"Yeah...I think so."

"You think a surgeon should be able to operate on herself too?"

"Not the same thing..."

"Yeah, it is, Gill. It is."

They were both sitting on the leather sofa in the back room of his office, her legs curled underneath her and his bum knee stretched out straight and resting on the coffee table. Cal's hand was underneath the wool blanket that covered her legs, resting on her thigh and periodically giving it a little squeeze.

"We've never talked about what happened the night I got shot. What happened before I got to your place," he told her. "I need to know."

Gillian shook her head. No, he didn't. She saw no reason to spell it out for him. Saw no possible benefit in it for either of them.

"But even more than that, I think it's time _you_ talked about it. Time you stopped carrying all that baggage on your own."

"Cal..."

"Tell me," he insisted.

"There's no point to this!"

"I disagree."

"Come on, Cal..."

_"Tell me."_

For a moment she considered turning around, getting up and leaving because she felt angry and defeated for letting him corner her like this.

Wasn't the truth enough? He needed detail too?

"Gillian..."

She didn't get up. Instead, tears started to roll down her cheeks and she expected to see pity on his face when she turned to him this time. But she didn't.

"We were supposed to meet up that night, you and I...to go to the airport and pick up Emily," she started. "So when I heard a knock on the door...I thought it was you. Even though I should've known better, I remember you called and you said twenty minutes and it had been barely five. I should've looked through the peephole...if I done that then..."

"Then he would have found another way in," Cal cut her off.

"Maybe..." Gillian nodded reluctantly. "When I saw who it was, I slammed the door and tried to push him out but he was too strong. He...he rammed the door in my direction, so hard that I fell backwards. I could hear my head hitting the floor...and then I remember him yanking me back up. I'm not sure how he did it. It all happened _so_ fast." Gillian shuddered at the recollection. "He pulled out a gun and I...I was just trying to focus. We started talking and at the same time I started to put two and two together. He wanted me to lure you to my place. To shoot you the minute you walked though my door...and then to kill me with the same gun, to make it look like a murder-suicide. Kline denied it but when I pressed...he even gave me reasons why it would work." She took a deep breath, feeling light-headed all of a sudden. "Ironically, he didn't have to do anything. Kline got my phone and he saw your text. He knew you were coming over. It was all just...falling into place for him. I knew then that I had to do something...I couldn't just sit and wait for you to walk into his trap."

"You attacked him."

It wasn't a question and Gillian saw the hurt on Cal's face when he said it. He tried to cover up his emotions as soon as he revealed them. But he wasn't the only lie detector in the room.

"Yeah...I did."

"What happened?"

"I lunged at him." Gillian told him. "I tried to rip his eyes out."

A sliver of a smile escaped his lips. "That's my girl."

"I caught him by surprise and he dropped his gun." Gillian closed her eyes and wished she could turn back time. Wished she could have made a couple of right decisions that night instead of so many wrong ones. "I tried to get it...but it was the wrong move. I should have kept trying to hurt him instead."

"Were you_ supposed_ to know how to fight off a guy twice your size?" Cal questioned her. "Do you have any idea how much guts it took to attack him at all?"

"I went for the gun," she told him. "And that gave him enough time to get back on his feet." Gillian exhaled. This was the worst part. A handful of seconds that she hadn't planned on ever sharing with anyone. "He got on top of me. He pressed his hands over my mouth and then he just...he was so...heavy and strong..." This was so impossible to explain, the feeling that he was crushing her. The way his knees were digging into her. "I couldn't breathe...I thought he was going to kill me."

Cal squeezed her hand.

"But he didn't. It felt like he was on top of me forever but maybe it wasn't even that long. I have no idea anymore. It's like time stood still. Before I knew it I was sitting up again. Everything was so fuzzy...I thought I was going to throw up all over him. But that didn't happen either."

"What happened?"

"I realized that I was still alive and still had a chance...I tried to reason with him. Convince him that he'd never get away with it. That all he had to contend with right now was...an assault charge."

"Take it he didn't listen?"

Gillian shook her head. "I kept trying...and then I saw you. I don't know how you knew to sneak into the house."

"The text message he sent," Cal explained. "I knew it didn't come from you."

"How?"

"Doesn't matter."

Gillian stared at him. The revelation stunned her. Although it shouldn't have. She should have questioned his clandestine entrance a long time ago. "You _knew_? But why...why risk coming into my place on your own if you knew?"

"I did call the cops but I kinda figured you were in trouble. I was closer than they were."

Gillian shook her head in disbelief. "Why would you do that? Why would you take that risk?"

"Same reason you lunged at a guy who was holding a gun at your head. We were both a little desperate that night."

"Cal...if you hadn't done that you wouldn't been shot!"

"If I wasn't there to distract him, maybe he'd have killed you the moment he saw the cops busting through the door."

Gillian swallowed. "I can't believe..."

"Don't," he cut her off. "Don't go back and think of a million things we shoulda done differently when every single thing we did brought us here. We survived that monster. Means we did every damn thing exactly as we should've."

"You don't believe that..."

"Yeah...I do."

Cal took her hand in his and forced her back to the present. "Have you been back to your place since the shooting? I mean...really been back?"

He already knew that she hadn't but clearly he wanted her to admit it to him.

"I tried. Twice. First time I didn't get far. The second time I asked Alex to come with me but it wasn't much better. I had a panic attack both times." It felt strange to say that out loud too.

"How come you didn't tell me any of this?" He wasn't accusing her. He only wanted to know.

Gillian shrugged. "Because I wanted to believe it wasn't important. Talking about it meant acknowledging it and you had enough on your plate without worrying about this too. But also because... it scares me...I'm scared that what happened that night changed me and that it's turning me into someone that I don't want to be."

Cal wiped away some of her tears with his thumb. "Changed you how?"

"I'm scared all the time, Cal. I can't walk down the hallway at the office without being terrified that someone will jump out at me from behind a closed door. I run to the car at the end of the day...because I can't stand to be alone in the parking garage. I used to love being by myself...and now I can't stand it. It terrifies me. I can't sleep because every time I close my eyes...I see him. I see his face _all the time_..." She paused when he handed her a tissue. "I haven't felt good...physically, since that night. I can't eat because most of the time my stomach is in knots and I'm so tired...I can't think straight, but I don't want to stop working because that's the only time when he doesn't fill my thoughts. Work and when I'm with you."

She was sobbing now and he'd moved closer to her, an arm around her shoulder pulled her into his embrace.

"That's the truth, Cal. I'm a _mess _and I don't know what to do about it."

His head nestled closer and he kissed her above her temple, his lips grazing her hair. "S'alright, luv."

"It's not." She couldn't stop crying.

"Now it's not, maybe it won't be for the next bit...but eventually it's gonna be. Promise."

There was so much certainty in his voice that it was hard not to believe him.

Gillian leaned into him, her eyelids heavy and her head pounding. Exhausted.

A lot of therapists believed that full disclosure was cathartic. She didn't always agree. Besides, there were just as many studies that dismissed its importance as there were those that hailed it.

But now that she told Cal everything, Gillian was glad there was no more deception between them. It was a literal weight that fell off her shoulders and it felt good. Because, contrary to what they'd said earlier,_ that_ was really what they needed in order for their relationship to survive. More so than equality and a willingness to finish a fight, they needed honesty and trust.

Given their skills, anything less than that was playing with fire.

* * *

><p><em>Later<em>

_Lightman Residence_

Cal Lightman sat downstairs on the sofa, watching the sunlight slowly filter through the half-closed blinds and light up the room.

Moritz stared at him with unblinking eyes, itching to go for a walk.

"Gimme me another twenty minutes," he yawned at the dog. It was an understatement to say it had been a rough night. He'd convinced Gillian to come back home with him. Had rifled through the small bag of prescription medications he'd taken home from the hospital a month ago and found some sedatives he'd never used.

Had handed her one and made her take it in spite of her protests. Granted she didn't have much fight left in her by the time they finally made it back home at one in the morning.

It wasn't a long-term solution. They both knew it, but it was a start. She was so desperate for a couple of nights of sleep that maybe once she got them and wasn't too tired to think straight they could sit down and discuss the next steps.

It was late morning now and she was still in bed and Cal wasn't going to be the one to wake her. If she slept through the afternoon so be it.

He'd held onto her last night until she fell asleep after taking a painkiller himself for his knee, thinking that would send him into oblivion too. But it didn't. He couldn't shut off his wired brain from thinking about every single thing that Gillian had told him.

_"I had to do something...I couldn't just sit and wait for you to walk into his trap." _

Cal imagined her lunging at a man holding a gun at her face and doing it without hesitation because it was_ his_ life hanging in the balance. Because she was ready to do whatever it took to stop Kline from taking his life.

_You don't even know how brave you are. _

Then he'd inched closer to her in the darkness of the night and kissed her bare shoulders, grateful that she was back here in his space. Because with every passing day he was falling a little deeper in love.

She hadn't wanted to tell him how much night was tormenting her because Gillian didn't want him to think she was broken, when nothing could be further from the truth. Cal didn't love her in spite of being able to feel too deeply, he loved her because of it. It's what made her an amazing friend and therapist.

But it made her vulnerable too, and that was easy to forget, because she was so good at keeping it hidden below the surface and never letting anyone think she needed help.

_"I couldn't breathe...I thought he was going to kill me...it felt like he was on top of me forever." _

Cal balled his hand into a fist. Anger was the other emotion that wouldn't let him sleep. Anger that he'd always be deprived of unleashing his wrath on Hunter Kline.

Cal's eyes darted from the clock on the wall that told him it was almost eleven in the morning to Moritz whose plaintive looks told him he was overdue for his morning walk.

"Alright then. Let's get you out of the house before you decide to do your business inside."

"I'll take him," a voice from the hallway responded.

Cal turned sideways to see Gillian approach him and Moritz, fickle bugger that he was, rubbing up against her legs already.

"See if I make you that offer again, disloyal beast."

Gillian smirked. "Any port in a storm."

Cal looked up at her. She was wearing a wool sweater and jeans, her hair wavy and still wet at the ends. She must have hopped in the shower without him hearing it. "Thought you were sleeping."

"It's eleven o'clock," she told him. "I panicked when I woke up and saw it was ten-thirty. I called Torres but she said you'd already called the office and told them I wasn't coming in until later this afternoon, if at all."

"Thought I'd beat them to it, before they called you in a panic."

Gillian sat down next to him and Moritz cradled his massive head in her lap as soon as she did. "Guess I'm playing hooky for another couple of hours at least."

"You sleep okay?"

"I feel like I slept for days."

"Good," Cal nodded. It was a start.

Gillian bent down to kiss Moritz on top of his head. "Poor guy, if we make him wait any longer his bladder might explode on top of your Persian rug."

"I'll take him," Cal offered but Gillian was already on her feet.

"Your knee must be killing you after all that walking you did last night."

"It's alright, I've got another one."

Gillian rolled her eyes. "Feel free to make me breakfast in the meantime."

"That I can do," he agreed, stifling anther yawn. "How do you like your beans and toast?"

"On second thought, maybe I'll grab a coffee on our walk."

"Can you bring me back one of those fancy teas then? Maybe a bagel too..."

But she was already out of earshot.

Or ignoring him.

Probably the latter.

* * *

><p><em>Later <em>

The smells that greeted her when she opened the door were nice and most definitely not beans and toast. French toast maybe, because she detected cinnamon and best of all, fresh brewed coffee.

"Stay," she ordered the big dog as she slipped out of her coat. It was still chilly outside but it wasn't a bitter winter cold anymore.

Gillian took off her shoes and went to grab a wet towel to wipe down Moritz's muddy paws. Made the dog stay put until she was done and he was clean enough to traipse over to the fireplace where she knew he'd spend the rest of the morning snoring.

"Hmmm...smells nice," she pointed out, after she stepped into the kitchen. Cal was standing by the stove flipping a piece of toast in a frying pan, while wearing an ill-fitting apron. "It is French toast."

"Figured if I made you something sweet and fluffy you'd eat it."

The night's sleep and the long walk did make her feel hungry for the first time in days. "What about you?"

Cal pointed to a can of beans sitting on the counter. "Those are going over mine. That pricy bottle of maple syrup from Canada is all yours."

She gave him a nudge. "Go on, sit down. I'll finish it."

But he wouldn't have it. Offended. "You sit down. Still capable of making breakfast."

Gillian raised her hands. "Fine then."

She did as he asked and noticed that the table was already set. Plates, cutlery, a pot of coffee for her and a kettle with hot water for him. She couldn't remember the last time they sat down for breakfast together.

Cal hobbled over to her with a plate of two thick slices of French toast, doused with a liberal amount of powder sugar. "Dig in."

She wanted to because it looked delicious but she waited until he finished cooking his portion and sat down at the table next to her with an open can of beans.

Gillian winced. "You're really going to do it? Dump those beans over the toast?"

He scooped out a tablespoon of beans and heaped them on his toast while she poured syrup on hers. "You have no idea what you're missing."

She bit into her toast, not surprised that it tasted even better than it looked. He was a surprisingly good cook when he made the effort. "This is really good. Maybe I should run the company and you could just stay home and cook and clean and walk the dog."

Cal shrugged. "Might be good for business."

"As _if_ you could stay away from the office."

"Been at home for almost two months now," he pointed out.

He had a point. Although she knew he was going to start climbing the walls soon if that didn't change. "Hmm...true."

"I'm going back next week," he announced.

"I see." There was no point in questioning it, even if she didn't think he was ready. The way he said it made it clear that it wasn't up for debate.

"You'll need all the help you can get with this new contract."

That was true. "I do," she agreed. "More than that actually. We'll need to hire more staff."

"Alright."

Gillian's mouth was full and she raised her brows a little, surprised at his lack of resistance. Staffing and payroll had always been a bone of contention between them. Not that she was about to question the ease with which he agreed with her. Besides, she was right. They desperately needed more people to handle their new workload because Alex wasn't ready to take on his own cases yet, probably wouldn't be for some time.

"How's the food?"

"Really good." It was, although she was getting full and probably wouldn't tackle the second slice. It was everything else that she enjoyed just as much. Sitting here in the cozy kitchen with him. Having a normal conversation.

Gillian got up and washed the dishes when they were done, deciding there weren't enough to justify sticking them in the dishwasher. Cal, restless and unable to stay seated, got up and stood next to her, leaning against the counter until she put the last mug into the drying rack.

"I should get changed. Get to work."

Cal grinned. "Need help getting out of your clothes?"

She didn't resist when he hooked two fingers into her jeans and pulled her close.

She loved the way his smile lit up his entire face and how her body responded when he looked at her the way he did now.

Gillian wasn't able to focus on his eyes for long because he leaned in to kiss her, his hands on her upper arms, partly for balance and mostly to give him better access. She tilted her head back and let him in, letting his lips run a soft trail of kisses that started near her ears and then moved lower, gentle and slow. Making her grateful that she'd opted for the v-neck sweater this morning instead of the turtleneck.

By the time his lips came full circle back to hers, she was itching to join in. One of her legs slinked around his, arms wrapped around each other now and bodies pressed close. Kissing Cal Lightman was always a full-body contact sport. Her favourite athletic activity.

"Love you," he mumbled when he came up for air.

Her lower lip throbbed and craved for more.

Cal surely noticed her dilated pupils because he stepped closer still, his fingers slowly lifting up the fabric of her sweater, trailing along her side. It was making her all sorts of hot and bothered. Gillian raised her arms and obliged him, letting him take it off. He did it so smoothly that her sweater was on the floor of the kitchen in seconds. He put his arms on hers and turned her around, alternating between massaging and kissing her shoulders, slowly turning her legs and the rest of her body into mush.

Foreplay wasn't one of their strengths, or at least it hadn't been so far, with both of them being impatient and eager every time. They hadn't been lovers long enough. But this was making her think that maybe he'd been holding out. It thrilled her to think that they still had loads to discover and learn about each other.

She returned the favour by moving her hands lower too, into his jeans, until they reached his upper thighs while her lips and teeth found an earlobe to latch onto.

Cal took his time unhooking her bra once she gave him the space to do it, kissing her breasts and the nape of her neck until she was certain that she no longer had the willpower for things to end there.

Her breathing getting heavier and Gillian could feel the deepening rise and fall of his breath. It wasn't the only thing growing warm and heavy against her body.

"So beautiful," he whispered, moist lips lingering on her breasts.

Her eyes motioned to the twin-sized bed they still hadn't moved from the living room. They couldn't exactly do this standing up. Not when he was mostly balancing himself on one leg.

That was all the invitation Cal needed. Arms still entwined they moved over to the bed. Not her first choice, but she was too impatient to make their way up the stairs.

Gillian stopped Cal before he was about to lie down.

"My turn," she told him, unbuttoning his short-sleeved shirt. She was always undressed so much faster than he was and that was all her fault. Gillian always took her time, letting her fingers linger on his skin and this time they stopped when they found the small bandage that covered what was left of his chest wound.

It took her back to that night again. Even now, when that was the last thing on her mind. Made her shiver a little as her stomach did a few flip flops. She pressed her hand against the dressing, grateful that she could feel his heartbeat underneath.

Then she felt his fingers around her wrist, gently moving it aside. "S'alright, luv."

"You sure you're ready for this?" she whispered, hoping he wouldn't see how badly she wanted him to say yes and how badly she wanted him inside of her, filling her up. Needing his strength and love to crush some of the other things she no longer wanted inside of her. They hadn't had sex since the shooting.

He pushed a strand of hair behind her ears. "Been up for it since the day I got out of the hospital."

"You wish."

"Gonna prove it to you by doing it and not dying. What is gonna kill me is if I have to wait one more..."

"Okay, okay...point taken." She put an index finger on his lips, letting him know that talking was only going to slow them down. Getting back to the business of getting him out of his clothes. One shirt off, one pair of well-worn jeans to go.

He pulled her onto his lap after she took off the rest of her own clothes, before she gave him a little shove so that he was lying on his back, taking over as she moved to straddle him. She wasn't the only one who lost weight these past couple of months. Cal was leaner too, enough so that she could see the contours of various muscles that lined his belly, admiring what she saw. It always baffled her that he was in such good shape. Maybe he exercised while no one was looking. Or maybe the amount of physical energy he exerted with every single movement was plenty of exercise.

Gillian arched her back, cat-like, before stretching out her arms and pressing her hands down flat next to his face. More creative options would have to wait a little longer. It didn't matter. Sheer pleasure emanated from his grin. Cal's hands hooked onto her hips and he pulled her down, letting their bodies begin moving in a steady, mutual rhythm. Holding back until he could see that she might just die if he waited one more second. _That _was something he was damn good at, because he wanted it to be good for her and had a shocking amount of self-control when it came down to the wire. The fact he could read her with ease once she let her walls down didn't hurt either.

And he loved to read her face when they were making love.

When it was over, and it wasn't until they'd gone a second round, Gillian was ready to fall back into blissful slumber curled into him on the too-small bed. And then start all over again when she woke up. Because there was nothing better than lying in his arms and feeling his skin on hers.

It occurred to her then, that _this _was the release she'd been seeking last night. Not alcohol or cocaine. Cal Lightman making love to her was her drug of choice and she was fine with that.

"Told you I was ready," he mumbled, his good leg draped over hers, a part of his face covered with strands of her hair because it was burrowed into her space. Gillian could feel his stubble brush against her cheeks.

"Glad we got that cleared up."

"Yeah. Me too."

"I really should get dressed for work."

"No, you shouldn't. Stay."

Gillian groaned. It was so tempting. To stay here, under the covers with him for days. Weeks even.

"Can't...there's so much to do to set up the Meridian contract. I have a meeting with Jamieson at three today..." If she were to miss it, it would start them off on the wrong foot and there was no way she'd let that happen. Not after they worked so hard to get this far.

She pushed herself off the bed. Then turned around to kiss him one last time. "This morning...everything. It was perfect. Thank you."

"Gill..."

"Yeah?"

"Can you do it for one more week?"

"Do what?"

"Run the place."

"Of course..." Her eyes narrowed. She had every intention of doing it for more than a week. Even if he did insist on going back too. Even though he might not trust her state of mind these days. "I need to work, Cal. If I don't it'll be worse..."

"Not like this."

Gillian didn't like the turn this conversation was taking.

"One more week," he reiterated, unexpectedly pensive. "Then we change things."

"Cal..."

"Change things for the better." He took her hand and kissed it. "Because I love you and I need you to be alright."

Gillian exhaled. "Okay. Fine." It was hard to protest when he said it like that. Lying there without any clothes on, distracting as hell, lips on her skin, all while making it abundantly clear that he was going to be her rock, whether or not she was asking him to be.


	49. Chapter 49

**Chapter 49 **

_Lightman Group Offices, Washington DC _

_One week later _

Ria Torres couldn't quite believe what she was seeing. She squinted a little in hopes of confirming that her eyes weren't playing tricks on her. That the figure that was limping towards her in the hallway really was who she thought it was.

"_Lightman_?"

"One and only," he shot back.

Ria walked towards him until she was close enough to wrap him in a fierce hug while a giant smile spread across her face. Not exactly their customary greeting seeing as Cal Lightman wasn't much of a hugger. At least not with his staff he wasn't. But then again this wasn't a customary meeting. It wasn't every day that he came back to the office after being shot three times and then spending two months recovering.

Ria Torres took in the sight of him. Reading him unabashedly in every sense of the word. Making sure he was okay.

He wore a suit, a shockingly non-wrinkled suit complete with a jacket and shiny dress shoes. Granted there was no tie and his jacket wasn't buttoned up and he also sported a three-day shadow, but still, his outfit was formal enough to suggest he wasn't just here for a visit. Truth was, he looked good, _really_ good, in spite of the cane he was holding in one hand. Handsome almost.

"No one told us you were coming back!" Ria exclaimed, taking a step back to give him some breathing room.

"Heard that the bunch of you brought this place out of the red and turned it back into a success story. Figured it was time I came in and started messing it up again."

Ria made a face. "Don't even joke about that."

Lightman grinned. "Too soon?"

"Yes."

His gaze went to her growing bump. "Hear congratulations are in order."

"Thanks."

"Mama Torres and Papa Loker..." he paused, letting it sink in. "It's bonkers what happens when you let the kids run the place."

"I thought Foster was running the place?"

His grin softened. "Nah...I mean it, Torres. Congratulations. Looking forward to the first Lightman Group baby."

"Doesn't Emily have that honour?"

"Nah...she was born long before this place. She's my Pentagon baby."

Ria was happy to see him, even more so than she expected to be.

Maybe Foster was the kinder, gentler of two of them, but she'd always felt more at ease around Lightman, even on days when he was being an insufferable jerk, same way Loker always felt more comfortable around Foster. It was because they were cut from the same cloth. Lightman might have a "doctor" in front of his name but he was just as rough around the edges as she was and it was obvious in everything he did. He'd grown up in the _barrio_, or whatever they called them in England, same as her, and had a childhood that was just as rough as hers. And just like Ria Torres, he usually didn't think before he spoke and didn't care a whole lot for social niceties.

With Cal Lightman what you saw was what you got and Ria liked that kind of honesty.

Although the Lightman she saw now was different than the Lightman she was used to seeing. Less than five minutes after she spotted him in the hallway, he'd already hugged her and congratulated her on her pregnancy. This wasn't the same Cal Lightman who punched out a cop in a police station more than a year ago and jump-started the downfall of their company.

He'd changed since then. Losing Foster had changed him.

Ria Torres was convinced that he needed Gillian in his life. And in order to make that happen again, he _had _to change.

"So you are back?" She questioned. "For real?"

"That alright with you?"

Ria's grin was still there. It was more than alright. They needed his skills and more selfishly she hoped that him being back meant her days at Leslie Rotblatt's office might soon be a thing of the past. Plus she missed the chance to keep learning from him. No one else was able to hone her skills the way he could. "Yeah, that's alright with me. But are you ready? You're okay? Physically?"

"I don't look alright?"

Ria groaned. Some things hadn't changed. "Yeah...sure. Sure you do."

"Right, then. Gonna head over to my office and make sure it hasn't been painted pink yet."

"You might be a week too late for that."

Cal scrunched up his lips and stared at her. "Nice try."

"Just checking to make sure you can still spot a lie."

He walked past her, towards his office, much slower and more cautiously than he used to.

Torres thought she heard him mumble something about never getting any respect.

"Welcome back, Lightman."

* * *

><p><em>Lightman Group Offices <em>

"Oh, hi."

Cal smiled at her, sitting at his desk and looking all sorts of gorgeous in a form-fitting red dress. He was a little torn about the amount of cleavage she was showing though. Appreciative on a personal level but wanting to toss her a jacket in case she decided to leave the room like that. After all, he wasn't too keen on sharing Gillian Foster with the rest of DC.

"Oh hi to you too."

"Thought you weren't coming in until after your physio appointment?"

"Got an earlier appointment."

"I didn't even get around to telling the others you were coming back."

"S'alright. Just saw Torres, she'll tell Loker and then Almeida will know. There's only the three of them still, aye?"

"Aye, aye," she nodded. "But I do have two interviews scheduled this afternoon."

"I can do them."

Gillian stood up and stepped over his side, planting a kiss on his cheek. She was taller than him in her black patent-leather heels. "Sit down," she gestured to his desk.

"I'm okay."

She gave him a little push towards his chair, which did look rather inviting. "I insist."

He didn't protest because it was still hard on his knee to spend too much time standing up and setbacks in his recovery wouldn't go well with his plans to come back here full-time. He settled into his comfortable leather chair while she sat on the rim of his desk, letting her dress slide up along her legs and completely distracting him.

She said something he didn't catch.

"Huh?"

She narrowed her eyes, stopping just short of rolling them. "Instead of doing the interviews, I was thinking maybe you could help Alex on a case. It would help if he used the Cube for it and he's not entirely comfortable doing that on his own yet."

"Alright." No protest there either. Sinking his teeth into an actual case sounded a lot more appealing than trying to weed through the phony pleasantries of eager job seekers. "What's it about?"

"Ask Alex. He's in his office and I'm heading out with Torres for a quick meeting before she heads over to the Rotblatt office."

"What meeting?"

"State Department," she explained. "Alex and I have been trying to get some FBI cases again. We haven't had much luck but one of the contacts we spoke to there referenced us to the State Department so we might pick up some work there."

"Really?" He was impressed. They were gaining ground all over the place. "Need me to come?"

"No." She teased. "I need you to get settled in and give Alex a hand."

"You know, just 'cause I can't run a marathon doesn't mean you have to keep me in the building and treat me with kid gloves."

"I know." She acknowledged. "But Alex really does need help on the Cube. Unless you wanna go to Leslie Rotblatt's office, then I'll have Torres do it."

"Helping Almeida with the Cube it is."

"By the way," she leaned forward a little, inching her dress even higher up her thighs and raising his body temperature. "Now that you're back I don't have an office anymore. I don't want to kick Torres out of hers and take back my old one."

"Move a desk in here. Plenty of space." He locked his eyes with hers. "It'll make a quick office shag much easier. Logistically, that is."

For a moment he thought she was contemplating it. But of course she wasn't. Not that he doubted for a second that it would happen. Whether or not she had a desk here.

"Seriously, Cal. We already live together. We'll kill each other if we spend our days working in the same room."

"But we always have the best make-up up sex."

This time she sighed out loud. "There's that room at the end of the hall that we use mostly for storage. It has a nice big window. I think I could convert it into an office."

"Or you could move a desk in here..."

"Can we be serious for two seconds?"

His hand somehow ended up on her thigh, fingers inching underneath the fabric of her dress. Cal wasn't sure how that happened. His hands had a will of their own when it came to her skin. "I am being serious."

She stood up and adjusted her dress. "You're not."

"You're leaving?"

"Yes."

He didn't hide his disappointment. "What am I gonna do?"

"Catch up on our case files? Read the seven hundred or so e-mails in your inbox? Talk to Alex?"

"Is the kettle still in the back room?"

"I tossed it. There's a new espresso machine on the counter now."

"We don't kid about things like that."

"Sure we do." Gillian smirked. "I'll start clearing out my stuff when I get back."

"Take your time."

"Okay. I will." Her blue eyes met his. "It's nice to have you back. Really nice."

"You sure? I didn't see any welcome banners in the hallway."

She laughed as she grabbed her purse. "Sorry. Wasn't in the budget."

* * *

><p><em>Lightman Group Offices <em>

Alex Almeida's office was near the end of the hallway, near where Gillian said she was going to set up hers. It wasn't an office so much as it was an old filling room that they'd converted into something that had a desk and a few plants. It wasn't much but Cal knew that Loker envied Almeida for it. Although Cal was also certain that if he'd actually admit it, Loker was far happier having a desk right in the lab than he would be if he had an actual office. It's why he kept him there and gave Almeida the office.

He was sitting at his desk when Cal knocked on the door but then promptly stood up to greet him. "Dr. Lightman! Welcome back!"

He threw his arms around him without hesitation. Much like Ria had done earlier.

"Thanks," Lightman told him, sitting down across from him once he made it back to his desk, studying the giant Brazilian man. He only barely had a chance to get to know him before he was shot. But he always liked the lack of deception on the man's face.

Dr. Alex Almeida was a man who was comfortable in his own skin. A man who had nothing to hide. Cal guessed that hadn't always been the case and that he relished it even more so because of it. Because he knew what it meant to not have that freedom.

But that was just a guess.

"I owe you a thank you too," he started, once he finished studying his face. "Foster told me you're the one we have to thank for the Meridian contract."

"It was good timing more than anything else," he admitted. "My partner had a group from the company at his restaurant."

"You saw an opportunity and took it. Because of it, the company is back on its feet."

"This is true," Alex acknowledged the compliment. "We did jump on it. Did we ever."

"Wanna thank you for something else too," he started. This didn't come easily for him. Gratitude never did. "These past coupla months, Foster needed someone to help her out, someone she could trust and I know that someone was you. Wanna thank you for that too."

"You don't have to thank me for that," Alex told him. "She's a friend. She made my miserable job at the prison bearable again and I wouldn't be sitting here in this office if it wasn't for her."

Cal scrunched his lips. "Still what you did for her...want you to know I appreciate it. 'Cause she means a lot to me."

"I know and you're welcome."

Alex waited a moment before asking. "How_ is_ she doing?"

Cal shrugged. "Hard to say. Sometimes, when there are enough distractions, I think she's perfectly fine. Least it's what I wanna believe. Then there's moments when I know she's not. We went to her place a couple of days ago...to help out the movers. I told myself I was ready for her reaction...but, that's a lie 'cause I wasn't. I was arrogant enough to think that if I went with her it'd be good. That she'd be okay. But she wasn't."

"It's not arrogance," Alex pointed out. "To think we're capable of helping the people we love."

Cal leaned his elbows on Alex's desk. "Not used to be being so bloody useless. Don't like it."

"You're letting her know she's not alone, that's anything but useless. And the way she's reacting to what was a major trauma, it's common, healthy even. Honestly...I'd be more worried if she wasn't affected it by it."

Cal chuckled. Shrinks were so good at finding the right words. He wondered whether they all took the same course. Assuring Therapeutic Verbiage 101.

"So what do I do?" he questioned him. "Just let this thing runs its course?"

"I think some professional help might help. She's not helpless...but needs someone who'll remind her how to help herself again. To show her how. She has the tools but right now she's overwhelmed, so she's forgotten how to use them."

"You think she should see a shrink?"

"Any professional she feels comfortable with."

"This isn't my territory, Almeida. I'm asking you for suggestions. Specific ones."

"There are some terrific therapists in DC or..." He looked as though a light bulb went off in his head. "There's this place that I've sent some of my patients to...that is, the ones that weren't stuck in prison." He typed something into his computer and then turned the screen around so Cal could see it.

The homepage looked like an advertisement for a resort. A beautiful beachside resort, complete with hammocks, palm trees and yoga classes. "Sunrise Treatment Center?"

"They deal specifically with the effects of trauma. People who are getting over a major life event. Natural disasters, rape, assaults, escaping a conflict zone, car crashes, war veterans...you name it. They have seven and fourteen day programmes. And in severe cases twenty-one days."

Cal squinted to read the fine print. "It's in...South Carolina."

"It's the best place in the country for treating post-traumatic stress. Because it's all they concentrate on. No addiction rehabilitation or other psych disorders are treated there and they use a largely holistic approach. Very limited drug-therapy. Their focus is on mindfullness, meditation, cognitive-behaviour therapy...given the kind of treatment she believes in, I think...this would be right up Gillian's alley. This could be amazing for her."

Cal stared at the picture on the computer screen, then at Almeida's face. He meant every word. Wasn't trying to sell him something. "A seven day minimum stay?" He wondered how _he'd_ sell that to Foster. Could hear her voice in his head already.

_"You want me to go away to a treatment centre for a week? Have _you _lost your mind?" _

"The only drawback is that it isn't cheap," Alex Almeida pointed out to him.

Cal didn't care about that. They had money in the bank again and she deserved the best.

"And you'll probably have a hard time convincing Gillian."

"If you say this place is the best. I'll give it a try. Every now and then she actually listens to me."

Alex smiled. "I hope she does this time. Let me know if you need help."

Cal slouched down in his chair. Much as he appreciated the offer he was hoping he wouldn't need it this time. "Speaking of help..." He was eager to get off the topic of his personal life now. "Foster says you need help on a case."

"The Whitelaw case?"

"I dunno...she told me to ask you. Something about where you need to use the Cube, this afternoon."

"Oh yes..." Alex turned the computer screen around and offered him a swizzle stick which Cal turned down, before grabbing one himself. No wonder Foster and him got along. "That is the Whitelaw case. It's an 82-year old who's claiming her maid's robbing her, wants us to prove that the maid's lying. I don't think she is, but she's coming in this afternoon and we're going to interview her in the Cube. Give our client plenty of documented proof either way."

"Right then..." Cal stifled a yawn. He was hoping for a real case. Not one that wouldn't even require the Cube.

But then he reminded himself that it was these kinds of cases that had kept them alive before they landed the Meridian contract.

And it was these kind of cases that would hone Almeida's skill in the fine art of lie detection.

* * *

><p><em>Lightman Residence, Washington DC <em>

_Later _

She slipped out of their cocoon of warmth and intimacy in the middle of the night, thinking he didn't hear her.

But he was a lighter sleeper these days than he used to be, so in spite of her quiet stealth, he did hear her. Cal pretended that he didn't, thinking she'd be back soon anyway.

Cal Lightman's eyes were open, slowly adjusting to the lack of light and occasionally glancing at the illuminated dials of the Rolex watch on his wrist.

Five minutes. Ten minutes. Fifteen.

Thirty.

Maybe she wasn't coming back.

Cal tossed the duvet covers off the bed and put on a pair of pyjama bottoms that he found hanging on a chair, so he wasn't completely naked.

He slowly made his way down the stairs and found her sitting on the couch, wearing a silk robe and watching TV. The volume was low enough that he barely heard what the actors were saying.

Gillian turned to him, when he plopped himself down next to her. He spotted Moritz snoring near his favourite spot by the fireplace.

"I woke you, didn't I?"

"Yeah..."

"I'm sorry. I tried not to."

"S'alright. I'll fall back asleep if you come back up to bed."

"I just...needed a distraction," she explained.

"From what?"

She bit her lip and hesitated. It surprised him, how much she still struggled to be honest with him. Made him wonder how much honesty there'd been in her marriage to Alec. By contrast, his ex-wife used to accuse him of too much honesty in their marriage.

Between Alec and Zoe, Cal hoped he was capable of finding a happy medium with Gillian.

"From seeing Kline's face whenever I close my eyes."

Cal swallowed. This was why she struggled to tell him the truth. Because she saw that it hurt him.

"We'll leave the light on and you can keep your eyes open and stare at my face instead."

She smiled a lop-sided smile. "I do like staring at your face. It's a nice face."

"It's a deal then..."

"But tonight I think I'll stare at George Clooney a little longer."

"Ouch."

"It's not personal."

"That's what they all say."

"But I mean it." Gillian leaned against his arm, burrowing her head into his space. "Go back to bed."

He kissed the side of her head, ending up with hair in his mouth. "And you're gonna stay up all night?"

"Yes."

He sighed.

She raised her brows. "You keep telling me you want the truth."

"Come back to bed," he tried again. "I'll keep you distracted."

She pushed herself away from him and shook her head. "I don't feel so good. I'd rather stay down here for a bit."

He eyed her in the dim light coming from the television set. She didn't look so good either. She hid it well during the day, with make-up and elegant work outfits, but now it was easy to see how pale and tired she looked. Made him wonder again how much longer she could keep this up.

"I talked to Alex today," he started. Since they were on an honest streak, he figured it was a good time to tell her. "I asked him if he could recommend something."

She raised her brows, defenses going up as she ignored George Clooney on the screen in front of them.

"Recommend something for you," he clarified.

Gillian exhaled. Annoyed. "You didn't."

"I did."

"I'm perfectly capable of finding myself a shrink."

"You might be capable but you're not doing it."

"You had no right..."

"Alex knows you need to do something about this, as much as I do." He ignored her indignation. "He suggested this place in South Carolina. Said it was the best in the country."

"Sunrise Treatment Center?"

"Yeah...that's it."

"Are you kidding me?" Gillian looked at him incredulously.

"You know it?"

"They have a minimum of one-week stays and they're crazy expensive and...and it's in South Carolina!"

"So?" He stared at her.

"Have _you_ lost your mind?"

He stopped himself from chuckling. Mildly impressed with himself for knowing her as well as he did. Knowing this was exactly how she'd react. "You're not taking any steps to get help. So I thought I'd take some for you."

"I can't just...go away for a week!"

"Why not?"

"With all the work we now have to contend with at the Group?"

"I'm back and we're hiring staff...and I'm not saying take off first thing tomorrow morning. But you could go in a week or two or whenever they have space."

"I can't believe you're seriously considering this..."

She was about to get up and walk away from him. It was her usual modus operandi when they fought: fleeing the scene. So he grabbed her wrist. "I'm seriously considering it, Gill," he said softly. He used to get Zoe to listen when he raised his voice but with Gillian it was the opposite. That much he'd learned. "I wish you'd consider too."

She exhaled but held in her anger. "Stop pushing, Cal."

He let go of her wrist. "Okay. But at least think about it."

She didn't answer. Fastened the belt on her robe and walked away from him, back up to the stairs to the bedroom.

He thought about following her but decided against it. If she really needed to put some physical distance between them he'd indulge her for once. That and he didn't feel like climbing back up the stairs.

If he was being honest with himself, he'd also admit that he didn't enjoy being around her when she was like this. Distant, angry and unyielding.

Cal knew enough about psychology to understand that it was just another symptom of what she was going through. He knew better than to take it personally.

But still.

He really hoped she'd consider some sort of treatment. He wanted it desperately for her own sake. Because he wanted her to stop hurting.

But he also wanted it for more selfish reasons. He wanted the old Gillian back. The one who was warm and funny and loved life. The unapologetic optimist whose face lit up when he brought her a cupcake. The quiet, steadfast partner who kept him calm and focused when chaos swirled all around him.

_I miss you. _

"That and I'm lousy at filling your shoes..." Having relied on her to do it for so long, meant he wasn't so good at being the one who held everything together.

Cal stared at the TV screen. George Clooney wasn't really his type but he was too lazy to switch the channel.

After a while he got into the movie and started to paying attention to it. So much so that he barely noticed Gillian coming back down the stairs, back to the sofa where he was sitting. Snuggling into him without a word.

"Missed me?" he asked, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close.

"George. I missed George."

Cal chuckled. "Liar."

She was quiet for a while until he heard her mumble an apology during a commercial.

"I'm sorry..." she repeated. "For being so difficult."

"Not gonna make you do anything you don't want to. You know that."

"I know."

"Just want you to consider it. As a possibility."

"I will."

Getting a hold of one of her hands, he entwined his fingers with hers. He did want the old Gillian back but he loved this one too and he told her as much.

She didn't tell him she loved him nearly as often as he told her. Probably never would, knowing he could see it in her eyes with one glance in his direction. The way he did right now.

"You think they're gonna pull off the heist?" he asked her, turning his attention back to the movie. Debating whether to put some popcorn in the microwave. Even if it was three in the morning.

"Yes."

"You've seen it."

"No, I haven't seen it."

"So what makes you think they're gonna pull it off?"

"It's Hollywood...and it's George Clooney and Brad Pitt. Catherine Zeta-Jones. Of course they're going to pull it off."

He looked at her, having to squint to catch the micro-expression in the semi-darkness. "You have seen it."

"You're good."

"You know it." He was pleased with himself. Not for being able to see through her blatant lie but because she was sitting next to him again, thoroughly distracted from Hunter Kline.

Maybe he was better at filling her shoes than he thought.


	50. Chapter 50

Fifty chapters? How did this happen?! Sorry for the delay and big thanks to those still reading :) Enjoy!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 50 <strong>

_Parking lot of the DC Central Detention Facility _

_Washington, DC _

Cal Lightman watched the man walk across the nearly empty parking lot approaching him. The man's footsteps picked up speed when he saw that someone was sitting on his car.

Alex Almeida's words rang in Cal's ears while his eyes remained fixed on the man coming closer.

_"He always parks his car at the very end of the lot. Sometimes even in the plaza next to the prison because then there is a better chance no one will park their car next to his. He hates the idea of anyone scratching his Cadillac. Or even getting to close to it." _He remembered Almeida laughing at the recollection. _"He's like a five-year old who can't stand the thought of someone touching his favourite toy. By the way...much as I like the idea of anyone tormenting that man, I also think this is a really, really bad idea." _

Almeida obviously hadn't worked with him long enough to understand that a lot of his brilliance stemmed from some really bad ideas.

Cal was sitting on the hood of that same Cadillac now, his legs dangling over the side.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Doug Penn yelled from a distance, his face red with rage. "If you don't get off my car right now I'm calling the cops! You do know that you're in the parking lot of a federal detention facility don't you?"

Cal didn't budge.

"You have some nerve to think that..." His words stopped in mid-sentence when he was close enough to recognize who was sitting on his car. "Well, then..." Doug Penn took a deep breath. "If it isn't Doctor Lightman."

"Doctor Douglas Penn." Cal snickered. "Guess you read my book then. Or at least looked at the cover. Yeah...probably that one."

"Get off my car." There was a little less force in his voice now.

"Sorta like it on here."

Doug Penn approached him and wanted to do something threatening without having the slightest idea of what that something could be. If the man didn't make him so livid, Cal might've found it amusing. He'd obviously gone through his entire life without ever having been in a physical fight.

What he did do was pull a cell phone from his pocket. "I'm calling the police."

Cal scrunched his lips before pulling out a set of keys from his own pocket. "I don't think that'd be a smart thing to do. Because you see...I'm itching to sue you for professional negligence and malpractice. A good lawyer might even tie you in with attempted murder."

"What?"

Cal clenched the keys in his hand. "You're the bastard that forced my partner to take on that psychopath, Hunter Kline, as a patient even though she requested to be taken off his case for her personal safety. You denied her that request and if that didn't make you a big enough wanker, you then went on and signed off on the man's early release, in spite of Dr. Alex Almeida's recommendation against it. You let that monster get out of prison early just to stick it to Gillian, didn't you?"

"The...decision I made was..." Cal could see the fear on the man's face now. Suddenly his fancy car was no longer his major cause of concern. "Based on a professional assessment."

"You _really_ think your professional assessment would hold up in a court of law next to that of my two colleagues?" Cal saw the fear on his face magnify. Saw the piss-poor job he was doing trying to mask it. "Yeah, I didn't think so. The _only_ reason you gave Hunter Kline an early release is because Foster and Almeida recommended against it. Because you're such a small man you needed those five seconds of power over her to feel big."

"That's not..."

"Spare me," Cal hissed. "It's only the two of us here."

Cal eased himself off the hood of Doug Penn's Cadillac but not before scratching it with the keys he held in his hand. "Do you know what Hunter Kline did right after he got out of prison?"

Penn swallowed. "I saw in the news..."

"You saw _what_?" Cal got right in his face now wanting to punch it. "That I got shot? Did it mention that I almost got killed and almost left my daughter without a father? Did it mention that I was shot three times and had to spend over two painful months recovering? That I'm still recovering? Did it mention that Kline assaulted Foster that night and then made her watch as he shot me? Did it mention that she still has nightmares to this day? _Did it say all that on the damn news?" _

"I'm sorry but..."

"You're _sorry_?"

"I'm sorry for what you and Dr. Foster went through but I can't be held responsible for Hunter Kline's actions..."

The spineless psychologist was so terrified now Cal wouldn't put it past him to piss his pants.

"You're responsible for Kline walking the streets of DC as a free man, for _insisting_ on it against the advice of someone who's far more qualified at his job than you are at yours."

"What...what do you want from me, Dr. Lightman?"

Cal stepped back and ran his keys along the hood of the Cadillac once more, leaving behind a deep, lengthy scratch mark, enjoying how much the action tortured Penn. "Besides messing up your car, you mean?"

"You can't just come here and..."

"And what?" Cal threatened. "Make you feel small and powerless, the way you like to do to others?"

"What do you want..."

Cal didn't let him finish. "I want to sue your arse, for negligence, malpractice, intent to cause bodily harm...I want to sue you for whatever I possibly can so that you lose your license to practice and never subject anyone to the rubbish that qualifies as a diagnosis in your world. I wanna see your name dragged through so much mud that no one in our line of work would dare come near you with a ten-foot pole. And if you get lucky enough to avoid a prison sentence after all that, then, I wanna to see you standing behind a fast food counter wearing a polyester uniform, asking people if they want to supersize their meals. _That's _what I want, Dr. Penn."

"I see..." There was a tremor in his voice.

"But..." Cal let the single word hang in the air. "It's not what Foster wants. She doesn't want to drag all of us through a trial and relive this thing all over again. And because I love her more than I hate you, I'm gonna respect that. It means you're one of the luckiest bastards I've ever met."

Cal pressed his keys into the hood of the car a little deeper. He smiled. "Go on, call the cops. 'Cause then I might have no choice but to tell them all about your misguided and vindictive reasons for setting Kline free."

Cal moved away from the car and back into Penn's face. "Yeah...I didn't think so. I also don't think you're gonna call the cops for what I'm gonna do next."

He pulled back his arm and sent his fist flying into Doug Penn's face so fast, the doctor didn't even know what hit him.

Cal heard the shattering of tiny bones against his knuckles after they made contact with the man's nose. He hit him with so much force that Penn toppled over, falling down on the concrete with a bloody face as Cal pulled back his sore hand. His chest felt the pressure too and for a moment he fought to catch his breath. His post-op doc probably wouldn't have approved.

Meanwhile, Doug Penn curled into a fetal position and started crying.

It disappointed Cal that he didn't put up more of a fight. Didn't give him a reason to strike again.

_Useless. _

Cal shrugged in disgust as he walked away from the doctor lying on the ground of the parking lot next to his Cadillac with a broken nose.

It wasn't nearly as much pain as he wanted to inflict on him.

But at least it was something.

* * *

><p><em>Lightman Residence, Washington DC <em>

_Later _

"That's good," Cal told her, holding the mobile phone against his ear while Moritz's massive head was cradled in his lap, occasionally turned around to lick an exposed body part.

It was nice to hear her voice. It always was and he hadn't heard it since she went away three days ago. Cal didn't have her extraordinary skill for voices but he was still better than most at detecting hints in subtle intonations, especially in a voice that was as familiar as hers, and he liked what he was hearing. She sounded good. "Aye, aye..." She was telling him something about a seagull joining her for lunch on a picnic table, eating half of it.

"Miss you," he said when she was done. She told him she missed him too and asked about Emily and the Group and it was nearly twenty minutes later when they ended their conversation, with no mention of his explosive meeting with her old boss.

"'Night, luv."

Cal put down the phone and looked at his knuckles, red and bruised. This was why he'd waited 'til Gillian was out of town before doing this. Because she wouldn't have approved. It was Friday night and although he' did plan on going in to the office tomorrow, he wouldn't see clients until Monday. By then his right hand would look presentable again.

He heard the doorbell ringing.

Moritz's head shot up.

"Go away," Cal mumbled. "Don't need it. Don't want it."

The doorbell rang again and this time Moritz jumped off the couch and ran towards the door.

"Dream on," he told the dog. "She's not coming home for another four days. Start barking so they'll go away."

But Moritz, worst attack dog in DC, didn't bark. Instead, he started howling and wagging his tail when the doorbell rang a third time. Whatever they were selling they sure were persistent.

And clearly his dog wanted some of it.

It was when he heard the keys turning in the door that Cal's head snapped towards it. "Bloody hell..."

Moritz had a more favourable reaction. He started jumping all over the person in the doorway, nearly crushing her with canine affection.

Cal stared down the hallway in disbelief, watched as his daughter set down a small carry-on suitcase and take off her shoes, even though Moritz made it difficult to do anything but return his love.

_"Emily?" _

She waltzed into the living room with the dog by her side. Grinning. "Hi, Dad."

"What are you doing here?"

"Nice to see you too." When she was close enough she bent down to give him a kiss before sitting down next to him.

"_Em_...?" Cal turned to her, not believing what he was seeing.

"You gave me a return ticket. Wasn't I supposed to use it?"

"You were supposed to give me a call when you're coming. You were supposed let me know so I could pick you up from the airport!"

"But then it wouldn't have been a surprise!" Emily's grin got wider. "Or maybe I forgot that part."

Cal pulled her into an embrace. "How the hell is my girl?" He missed her. More than he'd ever admit to anyone and here she was, in front of him, her eyes lighting up a face that kept getting prettier and prettier. When exactly did his smart-ass teenager become such a stunning young woman?

"She's good," Emily answered, scratching Moritz behind his ears. The dog still wasn't done welcoming her home. "I missed this guy."

Cal pointed a finger at himself. "What about this guy?"

"Yeah, him too."

He couldn't stop grinning. From one moment to the next his daughter was home and it was the best surprise in the world.

"I thought maybe you could use some company while Gillian's away," she told him.

"You know she's away?"

"Yeah...she texted me before she left. She sent me some pictures of the place after she got there."

Cal forgot sometimes how close they were. His daughter and Gillian. He caught something on Emily's face that he didn't expect to see. _Guilt_. It was only there for a moment but of course he saw it. It puzzled him but he let it go without questioning it. "I didn't get pictures. How come you got pictures?"

Emily smiled as Moritz finally walked off. "Maybe 'cause you're terrible at texting? Sometimes it takes you two days to return a message."

"That is a lie."

"How are _you_ doing, Dad?"

"Fantastic."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously. I can walk on my own again without toppling over."

"Why do I ask you serious questions?"

"That's a good question." he agreed. "You must be starving, luv. Want to go out for some food? It's dinner time in California isn't it?"

"It's dinner time here too. At least for the cool people."

"Is that a yes?"

Emily was debating it. "How about...we order in instead?"

Cal picked up his mobile phone before she got a chance to change her mind. "Pizza or Chinese?"

Emily laughed. "Do you have both of those programmed in your phone? That is sad, Dad. So sad. "

"You want food or are you too busy judging?"

"Chicken fried rice."

"Chinese it is."

Cal got a beer from the fridge for him and ice tea for her and they chatted and then chatted some more, catching up on each other's lives until the food arrived and they moved over to the dining room table, continuing their conversation there between greedy bites of take out. Mostly it was Emily catching him up as he peppered her with questions about her classes and her roommate and of course this boy she was supposedly seeing, until she casually told him she wasn't.

"We didn't even really break up," she confessed. "I just saw him with another girl during this football game that he didn't think I would be at. He was all over her...it made me so angry but he acted like it was no big deal. Like I was overreacting."

"Wanker." Cal hated him. Whoever the hell he was.

"I think that made me even angrier than what he did...that he thought it was no big deal." His daughter looked pensive for a moment and shrugged her shoulders. "Or maybe...I did overreact."

"If that's how he made you feel, then you didn't." Cal told her. There were other things he was thinking too. That if this guy was that cocky in public he had no doubts he'd be even cockier behind closed doors. Cal was too familiar with cheaters and liars and the behaviour she described was a dead giveaway. Not that he'd tell Emily that. "Trust your instincts, luv. Always."

"I guess."

"He's not worth it."

Emily smiled. "You would say that."

"It's the truth," Cal added. "You know I never lie to you."

They went back to digging into their Chinese take-away when Emily suddenly paused, put down her chopsticks and her fingers touched his bruised knuckles.

"Dad...I just noticed this. What happened to your hand?"

"Ran into a wall."

"Thought you just said you never lie to me."

Cal ignored her and fished for a piece of shrimp in his rice, hoping she'd drop it.

But of course she didn't. "_Dad_...?"

"Had something to take care of."

"What? You had to have a fist fight?"

"Something like that."

"Are you serious?" Emily questioned. She made no effort to hide her disbelief and disappointment. "Isn't that what got you into a huge mess last year? When you went to punch out a cop at a police station?"

"There was no cop and no police station involved this time. Swear."

Emily frowned. He saw anger. "You think this is funny, Dad? Are you _trying_ to screw everything up again?"

Cal put down his chopsticks too and looked her square in the eye. "No. No plans to screw things up this time."

"But you get into fights as soon as Gillian leaves town?"

"Not a fight," he corrected her. "Something that had to be done."

"I don't believe you, Dad! Do you really wanna risk losing everything _again_?"

"Hey," he cupped her chin with his hand, to way he used to do when she was a kid. "I said I wasn't gonna do that again. But this...this had to be done. I'm grateful for what I've got...don't want you to think that I'm not and I'll fight to keep it. But I'm not a saint and that's not about to change. Not sure you even want that."

She bit her lip and sulked a little, reminding him of Zoe. Giant doe-eyes full of accusation.

"Trust me, luv. Alright?"

Emily nodded reluctantly. Her expression still sombre.

Cal grinned to lighten the mood which was suddenly so different than it was a few minutes ago. "Also, me screwing up makes it harder to lecture you when you do. You should be thankful."

She managed half of a smile. "I'll remind you of that when I do."

Emily got up and left the dinner table and when she came back she brought along the first aid kit he kept in the bathroom upstairs. "You should fix that up," she explained opening up the white box with the red cross on the outside. "Put a few bandaids and some ointment on it." She started doing it before he could even open his mouth and tell her not to bother.

And after she was done, they ate the rest of their meal mostly in silence until Emily asked him about Gillian.

"Is she really gonna be okay?"

"Yeah," Cal's mouth was half full when he answered. "Course she is."

"You're not just saying that."

Cal finished his food and closed up the take-away box, pushing his chopsticks inside it. "Gillian's stronger than she looks."

"I know she is but..."

"She had a hard time after the shooting. But what she's going through...it's not uncommon. She realized she needed some help and she's getting it now. Doesn't mean she's gonna be a hundred percent when she gets back but I don't doubt for a second that she's gonna be fine down the road."

Emily's face scrunched up a little and then Cal saw it again. _Guilt._

This time he did call his daughter on it. Waved his hand in front of her pretty face and asked her why she looked like the cat that swallowed the canary.

"Did Gillian never tell you what happened between us after you got shot?" Emily asked him.

"Between you and her? Something happened?"

"Yeah..."

"No, she never said anything."

Unease lined her eyes. "After they brought you to the hospital and you had the surgery...she wanted to see you when you woke up. But when the doctor said family only...I told him she wasn't family. That she had no right to see you. I wouldn't let her come with me and Mom."

"_What_?" Cal stared at her. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't surprised. Shocked even.

He remembered so little of those moments after he woke up from the surgery. Everything was a drug-induced blur. He did remember seeing Emily's and Zoe's face. Did remember waking up later and wondering about Gillian. But that's about it.

"Then later when she came to the house to pick up Moritz...I made it pretty clear that I didn't want her staying with us."

Cal's eyes narrowed. "Why?_"_

"Mom was the one who insisted."

"_Zoe_?" The surprises kept coming. "But Em...I don't understand, what the hell prompted you to do what you did?"

The guilt was etched deeply on her face now. "I don't know."

"Yes you do." He called her out on that lie.

Shame, that was the next micro-expression he saw.

"I was angry, Dad," she tried to explain. "I didn't know you and Gillian were together. All I heard was that you'd gone to her place and jumped in front of her when this guy tried to shoot her. I was so angry...that you would do that. That you'd risk dying, risk leaving me for someone who wasn't even talking to you anymore."

Cal stared at her, waiting until she was finished, knowing she wasn't.

"I was angry that you got shot and she didn't." She said it quietly. Embarrassed by that truth.

Cal swallowed. Of course it made sense. In a twisted, heart-breaking kind of way.

Emily hadn't known they were together when it all happened. They were going to pick her up at the airport and tell her in person. Cal had forgotten that part too. "I see."

Even so. This was Gillian they were talking about. Gillian who'd been nothing but kind to his daughter since they'd first met nearly a decade ago.

It made him angry to think that none of that mattered that night and Cal wanted to tell Emily as much, but it was obvious she was already beating herself up enough for both of them.

"Em...why are you bringing this up now? Obviously you two patched things up and it's water under the bridge."

_And obviously Gillian never told me because she loves you too much for that. _

"The thing is..." Emily started. "I didn't know that Gillian was having such a hard time after the shooting until she told me she was going away to this place in South Carolina. I had no idea!"

"That's got nothing to do with you, luv. Took her some time to admit it to herself."

"That's not what I mean, Dad," Emily added. "After she told me, I wondered if maybe I had something to do with it. She was so...out of it that night. Maybe if I'd helped her...instead of make things harder for her then maybe...maybe she wouldn't be going through this now."

"Hey, Em... stop that." Now at least he understood the micro-expressions he'd seen on her face earlier.

He leaned into the table and put a hand on her arm. "Post-traumatic stress...it's more complicated than that. Our minds and bodies don't process a whole lot after a traumatic event. They shut down to protect us and it's only later when they stop doing that, that people start feeling the effects. That's when they get sick."

"You're saying she was in too much shock to register anything that night?"

"I'm saying...these things, they're complex. It's 'cause our brains are complex."

"That night I had people taking care of me. Making sure I was okay. No one did for Gillian..._and I should have been the one who did!_"

"Mom being there for you that night...did it make things better? Easier?"

His daughter weighed the question. "No...not really," she answered him honestly.

"There you have it. Em..." He squeezed her arm. "Not gonna lie and say I wish you hadn't done what you did but we don't always do the right thing. It's what makes you human. Only good that comes of it is that maybe it helps you do the right thing next time. Gillian's the last person who'd want you to feel bad about this. Or blame you for anything she's going through now."

Emily nodded. The sombre look still on her face even as the guilt was slowly leaving it. "I know."

"Good." Cal nodded. "And Em...one more thing..."

"Yeah?"

"When I jumped in front of Hunter Kline, last thing in the world I thought about was leaving you. Not something I ever think of doing."

"I know that too...I didn't say any of this was rational."

"You're the most important person in my world and that's never gonna change. No matter how old you get or how much I love another woman."

Seeing the way her eyes took in his words told him that maybe she needed to hear them. Cal grinned at her. "Besides, who else flies across the country to see me for a weekend?"

"You know, I have a Dad who did the same thing once. Flew in all the way from DC to pay me a surprise visit once."

"What a lunatic."

Emily smirked. "Isn't he?"

"Explains a lot though."

Emily glanced towards the couch. "You up for a movie?"

"No, course not. Old people have dinner at five and go to bed at nine."

"Whatever."

Cal got up and gave Emily a push in the direction of the sofa. "Go on...grab a spot before Moritz beats you to it. He's used to watching the news with me at night."

She was quick and grabbed a spot as well as the remote before Cal slouched down next to her.

"If you want ice cream you'll have to get it yourself." Cal told her.

"But I'm a guest."

"No, you're at home."

She sighed and got back up and headed into the kitchen. "Want some?" she yelled.

"Nah..." Cal got a hold of the remote and watched as Moritz took Emily's spot on the couch. It was good to have his daughter back. Even if only for the weekend. He missed her company since she left for college, even more so now, when Gillian was away. Because he was already used to having life in this house again.

If course Emily probably knew that and it was precisely why she was here. Whatever the reason, he'd take it.

It meant he wouldn't go in to the office tomorrow after all. He'd be behind and swamped on Monday.

"Here," Emily announced, when she came back with two bowls of ice cream and handed him one, after squeezing in between him and Moritz.

"Thought I said I didn't want any?"

"I'll feel guilty if I'm the only one eating ice cream," she explained, handing him a spoon.

Cal took it and dug in. He was going to fall behind work. There'd be sarcasm, more forced ice-cream and probably a chick flick.

Not that he really minded any of it. Even a little.


	51. Chapter 51

**Chapter 51**

_Ronald Reagan International Airport, Washington DC _

Gillian Foster stared out the window of the small American Airlines jet as it slowly neared its gate in the drizzle, only half listening to the various announcements about connecting flights, shifting luggage and making sure the seatbelts were left on until they were at the gate.

Instead, she turned on her cell phone while her eyes drifted to the early evening sunset she spotted on the horizon. She shifted her attention away from it after she heard the pings of waiting messages on her phone.

The were two texts from Cal.

-Bloody Leslie, can't get out on time to meet u at the airport. take a taxi home, i'll meet u there.

-or stay at the airport, have a coffee and i'll pick u up in an hour or so. let me know. :)

The smiling face at the end made her smirk. That was Emily's influence no doubt.

_It's only been a week but I missed you so much. Missed your face and your smile and your voice and your touch. . _

Her thoughts drifted back to the last two weeks. To the panic attack she had in the Cube when one of their clients voices reminded her of Hunter Kline. She'd been unable to continue their interview and they lost the client.

It was a painful, embarrassing last straw. One that finally made her realize she had to take action.

When Cal first mentioned the treatment center in South Carolina, Gillian had no intention of going there, but that day in the Cube changed things. So much so that she found herself on a plane to South Carolina only a few days later.

It was one her better decisions in recent months.

It wasn't until she left DC that it started to sink in how much she needed to get away. And there were few places more beautiful than the beachside sanctuary she escaped to. She'd open her windows at night and fall asleep to the sounds of waves crashing on the shore.

The therapy itself was holistic, unorthodox and effective. Some of it took place in the form of walks on the beach with a personal counsellor and some over a campfire at night in small groups. She re-learned how to apply the various techniques she was already familiar with, in order to get the upper hand on her fears and irrational thoughts. There was yoga and meditation, group therapy and long, rejuvenating jogs along the beach at sunrise. There were afternoon naps in hammocks and angry, healing tears as she went back to the night of the shooting and dissected into tiny pieces, taking away its power over her step by step.

All of it was exactly what she needed. And more.

Gillian knew it was just a start, that she still had steps to take. But she could sleep through a night without nightmares now, wake up without a pounding headache in the morning and walk through an empty hallway without having her heart race and her knees grow weak.

She could even go for several hours without a single thought of that night and that was something she wouldn't have thought possible two weeks ago.

She was clawing her way back to being the Gillian Foster she used to be and it felt good.

Gillian waited until the red "fasten seatbelt" sign was turned off before texting Cal back. She was going to tell him that it was alright, that she'd make her own way home.

But then she stopped in mid-sentence and deleted it.

-Okay, I'll wait for you at the airport. No rush. Take your time.

That was one other thing she'd forgotten in recent months; to slow down. She'd crammed so much work into her days, hoping it would fill her thoughts and push out anything to do with Hunter Kline. But the problem was, preoccupying her mind only held it back until she had no choice but to slow down and then it always came back to hit her in full force.

She'd made so many rash decisions in the last couple of months. Because she hadn't slowed down to let herself think much of anything through.

_And some of the decisions I made weren't fair. _

She'd sold her house and moved in with Cal without so much as asking. Had made both decisions based largely on fear.

Gillian got up and grabbed her carry-on from the luggage hold above the seats, yanking it out of the compartment and then setting it down on the floor and slowly wheeling it down the single aisle of the plane. It was a full flight and her seat was near the rear. The plane was emptying itself at a snail's pace.

It took her several long minutes to make it to exit door at the front, where the pilot saw them off with a smile, and even longer to find a coffee shop in the terminal that had an unoccupied seat where she could wait for Cal.

* * *

><p><em>Later<em>

_Ronald Reagan International Airport _

Cal loosened his tie as soon as he parked the car and turned off the engine, staring at his reflection in the rear view mirror for a moment. Then he yanked the whole thing off and tossed it onto the passenger seat.

He hated the monkey suit that Leslie Rotblatt made him wear every time he had to work out of her office. It was one of the many stipulations the contract he signed a year ago, back when the Group had been desperate enough to agree to anything. Now the contract was two months away from expiring and Cal was counting the days. He'd either sign a new one on his terms or drop the whole thing. Because now they could afford to.

What he really wanted was to dump the whole thing like a hot potato and never look back. But truth was, the Rotblatt contract kept his company alive on life support for nearly a year and for Cal Lightman that meant he owed the woman a certain amount of loyalty. Even if he couldn't stand her, he was a big believer in loyalty.

For now he pushed the thought out of his mind as he got out of the car and went to the nearest machine to pay for his spot. He still favoured one leg when he walked, making his gait even more awkward than it already was. But he could walk without crutches or a cane now thanks to his über-cheerful physiotherapist.

He double checked the text message on his phone to see where Gillian was waiting for him. Then he checked the airport signage to make sure he was going the right way.

Cal wasn't apprehensive very often but he could feel apprehension churning away in his gut now.

_What if it didn't help? What if she's not better? _

_What then? _

He pushed those thoughts away too as he slowly made his way across the terminal to the Starbucks where she was waiting for him, his apprehension easing the moment he spotted her, cradling a frothy beverage in her hands.

A grin spread across his face as he got closer and she stood up to give him a welcome back hug.

Gillian looked good. _Really_ good.

She sported a healthy tan and the dark lines underneath her eyes were all but gone, and when his eyes started roaming past her gorgeous face, Cal could've sworn she put on a couple of pounds as well.

Her arms wrapped around him and pulled him close after a lingering kiss on the lips.

That felt good too. The scent of her in his nostrils and the feel of her skin against his.

"Missed you, luv," he whispered into her ear.

"Missed you too." She told him, gesturing that he take a seat. "Want to grab a tea and finish this with me?"

"Sure," he agreed. He already paid for an hour's worth of parking.

"What do you want?" she asked, moving to the counter before he had a chance to get up again.

Cal eyed her cup. "Anything but that." He didn't care for most of the menu. It was filled with thick blended drinks with too much sugar, too much ice and too much whipped cream for his taste.

Gillian came back with a steaming cup of tea, with milk and no sugar and teabag still in, as well as a blueberry scone. She did know him pretty well.

"How you doing?" he asked after he took a bite of his scone. She didn't really have to answer him. He could read it in her face because he couldn't stop staring at her. It was striking, the difference that a week could make. Made him realize just how bad she looked before going away.

"Better."

"How was it?"

She took a sip of her cappuccino or mochaccino or whatever it was. "I slept a lot, ate a lot, talked and cried and learned a lot. Both as a patient and as a therapist."

"That's good."

"It was...an amazing place, Cal. I can see now why they're the best in the country and it was exactly what I needed. Thank you..." she paused. "For giving me the push I needed to do it."

"Anytime." He shoved another piece of scone into his mouth. It was too dry for his liking but he was starving. "So what's next?"

"They've hooked me up with a therapist here in DC. I'm going to see her once a week. For now. Hopefully only once a month in the near future."

"Good," he nodded.

"It's not...gone," she added. "But it's better. A lot better."

His hand reached out to hers and their fingers hooked up. "It's only gonna get better. Promise."

She smiled. "How was Em's visit?"

"Had a pile of work that didn't get done," he admitted. "But aside from that it was bloody fantastic. Moritz wanted to go back to California with her. Apparently my walks don't quite measure up to hers."

Gillian laughed. "We really do have the most fickle dog in DC."

"Think he might have missed you a bit too."

"Cal..."

"Yeah?"

"I've been thinking...the last couple of months I made a lot of rash and irrational decisions."

"Now you know what it's like being me."

Her face was serious. "I sold my house on a whim and I didn't even ask if it was fine to stay at your place."

"It's fine."

"I was scared to be alone," she confessed.

Cal bit the inside of his cheek, suddenly afraid of where this was heading. "And now you're not." It wasn't a question.

"Not as much."

"You want to move out again? Have your own place?" he asked. It was blunt but when it came to the truth he didn't care for beating around the bush.

She bit her lip and lowered her eyes so she was looking at her drink not him. Entirely unreadable.

It drove him crazy. Those moments when he couldn't read her, or worse, couldn't decipher the things he did see. Like now.

"I love being at your place," she said softly. "It feels like home to me."

"But...?"

"It happened so fast. For all the wrong reasons. Because you got shot. Because I was scared."

"So what?" he countered. "Look, Gill...not gonna stop you if you want to move out. But are you gonna do it because you think you should...or because it's what you want?"

"I don't know," she admitted, then pondered it a moment longer. "No...it's not what I want."

He smiled and noticed they were still holding on to each other's hands. A no answer didn't usually make him this happy. "Who the hell cares if you moved in for the wrong reasons? Stay for the right ones." Now he could read the happiness on her face too.

"Stay for my cooking. And the sex."

She almost spilled some coffee. "Those are...good reasons."

"You know what else I think? You should stop calling it my place. It's our place now."

"Okay."

Cal smiled. That was easier than he'd expected and he liked it.

He filled her in on what was happening as the group as they finished their drinks. Until Gillian spotted an old couple in line and offered them the table they were sitting at. Because that's what she did.

Cal put an arm around her shoulders as they walked back to the car, deciding then that he wanted to go out for dinner tonight. A celebratory dinner of sorts. He'd talk her into it before they got home. Or maybe he'd just drive to a restaurant and see if she noticed.

"You know what I'd miss most if you moved out?"

"What?"

"The dog..." he mumbled. "I'd miss that big lug."

He felt a slap on his shoulder.

"Who says I'd take him with me?" she shot back. "You know what I think? You should stop calling him my dog. He's our dog."

* * *

><p><em>Lightman Group Offices <em>

_Washington DC, _

_Three months later _

It was nearly ten o'clock at night and both of them were in his office, _their_ office really, because Gillian never did end up moving out, even though she set up a small desk at the end of the hallway. It hadn't been necessary because they started scheduling each other on different shifts and spent so much time out of the office and working on separate cases, it made sharing a desk very easy. So that's what they did.

Gillian was the morning person so she came in early and rarely stayed past five. Cal made sure of it. He came in later, around noon, and stayed late enough to put out any fires that started after she left.

He was sceptical at first about their new arrangement, thinking it would mean they'd barely be at home at the same time, but it worked. It gave them the breathing room they needed and something to look forward to at the end of the day. Gillian, in his home and in his bed. She still got nightmares some nights, or felt terrible in morning and some nights she couldn't sleep at all. But it was happening less and less and in his books that was progress.

Sometimes she was brooding and moody too. Although sometimes he wondered if that had nothing to do with the shooting, this is was only her taking on some of his traits, as couples were apt to do. He did catch himself snacking on a chocolate pudding while watching basketball the other day, wondering what the hell he was doing.

During the rare times they spent together at the office, it was here in his space, in close quarters just the way he liked it.

Gillian was the one sitting at his desk tonight, typing something into her laptop while he was on the couch with a file-folder on his lap. His own lap-top was sitting open on the desk as well as well as a half-empty container of pizza and two bottles of Perrier.

It was a bit of a mess, to put it mildly. But it was nearing the end of the month and they desperately needed to put their case files in order before the first of the next month. Either that or pay someone to do it.

However, it _was_ getting late and harder to concentrate on putting together their month-end papers. Especially when soft the light of the desk lamp seemed to focus right on the deep cut of her wrap-around dress and...

"I was thinking that maybe we should switch things around a little, to have Naseem spend some time with Torres and maybe Becky could work with Loker on that litigation case for Meridian instead, what do you think?"

"Huh..." Cal looked up at her. "Yeah...sure."

Hearing the names rolling off her tongue was a stark reminder that there were thirteen of them here now. _Thirteen_. Along with Almeida, Torres, Foster, Loker and himself they went ahead and hired eight new staff members in the last three months.

Becky. Naseem. Margarita. Oliver. Chang-Yung. Diago. Pradeep. Dmitry.

A secretary ("Administrative assistant," he could hear Gillian's voice correcting him even in his thoughts. "That's what we call them now."), five research assistants (one of whom made the jump from Rader's firm), a guy with a doctorate in behavioural science and a keen interest in micro-expressions, and there was even a new natural. Cal could barely keep the names straight and craziest thing of all, was that it wasn't enough. They needed to hire at least three more to keep up with their increasing work load.

They'd renewed the Rotblatt contract too. Leslie hadn't budged on his attire but was now paying them twice as much as she did last year. It made wearing a suit a little less painful.

Of all his new staff, it was the natural that Cal cared about the most. It always was. Young, androgynous, angry and confused, Dmitry Jacobs. He'd been adopted by a well-meaning American family when he was fourteen, after a childhood full of wretched abuse in half a dozen Ukrainian orphanages.

Cal and Gillian discovered him over dinner at an Italian restaurant a month ago. Literally.

Dmitry was their busboy that night, scooping up and dropping off dishes without a word.

Cal was fascinated by him, right from the start. With wiry, muscular arms, flawless skin, striking green eyes enhanced with garish make-up and shoulder-length blonde hair, he was part man, part woman, part child.

"You're staring," Gillian had chided him.

"How can I not?"

But it wasn't Dmitry's looks that fascinated him the most, it was the way he reacted to the subtlest expressions that Cal was flashing at him.

"Are you..._flirting_ with him?" Gillian had questioned incredulously.

"Nah...don't be ridiculous," Cal shot back. "I'm testing him. And he's passing. With flying colours."

He'd given the young man a business card and a hundred bucks as incentive to stop by the office the next day. "I'll pay you the rest tomorrow."

Cal tested him for two hours in the Cube and offered him an internship right after. One that would pay him triple what his restaurant job would pay. That's how certain he was that he'd found his next natural.

"He's gonna be a handful," his shrink partner warned him while chewing on a twizzle stick. Of course she was right. But his new natural was also brilliant. Dmitry could see things that escaped even him and Torres, and Cal was determined to cultivate the young man's skills before he did something stupid with them. Or worse, started to lose them. So far he hadn't set the building on fire or lost them any clients. In fact, Cal could've sworn that, nearly two months later, his latest protégé was starting to feel right at home in the Lightman Group, along with all the other misfits here.

"Did you listen to a word I said?" Gillian asked him, bringing his thoughts back to the present. To his dimly lit office and to the way her chest moved, exposing just a touch more skin every time she breathed deeply or leaned forward a little.

"Have Naseem spend time with Loker and Becky with Torres. Yeah...sure. Let's do it."

Gillian winced and leaned back in her chair, stretching her neck. "Not what I said at all."

"Whatever you said. I agree."

She scrunched up a piece of paper and tossed it at him. "Idiot."

Cal stared at her. He never tired of looking at her. Especially at all the things he saw in her beautiful eyes when she locked them with his, without a word. The way she did now.

"Let's call it a night," he suggested. Gillian would be back here before 8am tomorrow and Cal was determined to stick to their reduced workload schedule. Tonight was an anomaly.

"We have only two more days to finish this."

"Plenty of time."

"Okay..." she agreed, shutting her laptop first and then his, slipping out of her heels with a yawn. The last time she did that she ended up slipping out of the rest of her clothes as well. Or more accurately, he'd helped her out of them. They only made love in here twice since he got back to the office. Twice in three and a half months was a sad, sorry statistic. One that Cal was determined to improve. Maybe even tonight...

"Hey..." she sat down next to him on his leather couch, and squeezed his thigh. "Let's go home. We can take my car and you can cab it in tomorrow."

"Alright."

She leaned in to him and gave him a kiss. Something she did more freely and more often lately.

"What are you thinking about?"

_Undressing you. _He did think about that a lot, if he was being truthful.

Cal smiled and didn't answer. There was something else he'd been thinking about a lot lately. Now that he was reasonably certain of what her answer would be and now that he was physically capable of getting down on one knee.

After everything they'd been through, he figured he had to do something special when he popped the question. He debated doing it during a sunset at a beach, or maybe having a ring hidden in a marshmallow at a campfire, or wrapped in a cloth napkin at an exquisite restaurant. He also considered a hotel room with rose petals scattered all over the expensive bed sheets and chilled champagne on the bedside table...

But more he thought about them all, the more nauseous he got.

It wasn't the act of asking or the thought of marrying her. He had no qualms about any of that. It was the elaborate, contrived process of it all that made want to throw up. And he'd almost fallen prey to it, because he thought it's what she might want.

But he'd never been about grandiose, romantic gestures and attempting it now, during one of the most important moments of his life felt anything but honest. .

It suddenly occurred to him, that the most fitting place in the world for him to do it was right here.

_How is it possible I didn't see that before? _

The realization was so sudden and striking that he had to do it right here and now. Before reason and common sense told him otherwise.

Cal's hands reached over for one of hers and he shifted off the sofa and down to floor, so he was literally looking up at her, radiant and gorgeous in the soft light. It was then that his heart started to pound, ridiculously loud and fast and he could feel a cool sheen of sweat forming on his skin.

He didn't expect this.

Cal rarely got nervous but there it was. Hitting him like a brick out of nowhere.

In spite of his certainty there was an inkling of doubt in the back of his mind.

_Maybe she doesn't want this...maybe she's not ready..._

"Cal?" Gillian gave him a puzzled look and that's when the words tumbled out. Rambling and unrehearsed, slightly incoherent and straight from the heart.

"When we moved our company here, I loved this room," he told her. "It's where I came late at night when I needed to get away from the chaos of my marriage. It was _my _space. My kingdom of sorts, you know? It's dark and uninviting, a bit like me. No one else had any claim to this room and I liked it that way."

Gillian didn't say anything, her attention on his words unwavering.

He stuttered a little and heard her voice ringing through his head.

_Use your words, Cal. _

"This room...this is where I lost you fifteen months ago, because I was an angry sod who couldn't control his temper."

"Cal..."

"And this is where I came after I took you out for dinner and you decided I deserved a second chance. But I had other ideas. I decided you were better off without me." He smiled a little, his nerves calming down. Such was the calming effect her eyes had on him. "There's days I still think that, even though it's the last thing I want."

Gillian's eyes watered and she wiped away a tear.

"You came to see me here that night. You knew I'd be here. This is where I finally had the guts to tell you that I love you. Where we first spent a night sleeping in the same room..." He thought back to an early case. "Well, except that night we got to a sold out motel in Tennessee and had to share a room. But that doesn't count. Here...here you were in my arms." Other, more delicious, memories now came back to him. "This room is where we made love for the first time. Because you came here to see me at the end of another day when I was a wanker who started a fight with you at the prison."

Cal swallowed. "Used to think this room was my sanctuary. Couldn't imagine ever wanting to share it with anyone else. Didn't think anyone would even want to. But now...I can't step in here without thinking of you. You're here...in my space _and I like it_. You've the seen the worst of me and the best of me here and I can't imagine this room without you in it. No more than I can imagine this company or my life without you in it."

His knee was throbbing now but he didn't move an inch. This was one part where he wanted to stick to tradition. Even if it killed him.

"_Gillian Andrea Foster...would you be my wife_?"

For a moment she didn't say anything and in that nanosecond he let the doubt creep back in while his heart sank into his gut. Until he read the answer in her face and exhaled. Exhilarated by what he saw before she could answer.

Gillian nodded as she wiped away another tear. "Yeah...I would."

Something else suddenly occurred him. "Oh no...damn!"

"Damn?" Gillian's eyes widened and then narrowed in confusion. "Is that...not the answer you were hoping for?"

"No...no!" Cal cringed, regretting his reaction immediately. "No, no...of course not. Damn because I don't have a ring."

"Cal..." Her confusion changed to amusement. "You _kill _me."

"You need a ring..." This realization was monumental too and he suddenly felt like a fool. "_I_ need a ring. People propose with a ring. I should've thought this through."

_Who the hell proposes on impulse without a damn ring? Who? _

"Cal..."

"You'd think I've watched enough movies to know this..."

"Cal!" He felt her hands on his cheeks, cupping his face and demanding attention. "Would you stop talking for a second?"

"Gill..."

"Look at me!" Her eyes met his. "I don't need a ring."

"You do! You're going to be my wife."

"I'm only going to say this once more..." Her expression was serious. "You're the only thing I need. Only thing I'll ever need."

The way she said it put a lump in his throat.

Gillian leaned in to kiss him, wiping away a trace of lipstick with her index finger when they were done. "I already told you this in Vegas. A ring, marriage papers...it doesn't mean what I used to think it meant. I don't mind wearing a wedding band again, Cal, but I really, _really_ don't need a tiny piece of pressurized carbon dug out from a giant hole in Africa by an underpaid worker."

Cal chuckled, letting the relief sink in. "See...this is why I love you. You're not just a pretty face."

"What I do want..." She was still so serious. So beautiful. "Is to grow old with you. I'd love that."

"Yeah..." he swallowed, suddenly aware of the enormity of what he'd asked. Of what it meant and how much he wanted it. It was so very different from the first time he'd proposed. When Zoe had been pregnant with Emily and he felt like it was something he needed to do. This time everything was prompted by desire. "Me too."

She held out her hand and helped pull him back up onto the sofa. Sank back into it, so she was lying on her back and he was nearly on top of her. It wasn't terribly comfortable for him but he liked what he saw in her eyes. Arousal and pleasure.

"Let's not go home," she whispered, teasing. "Only fitting we spend our first night engaged here in your kingdom, don't you think?"

Cal lowered himself onto her, his lips trailing the deep cut of her dress, pushing away the soft fabric to kiss her breasts, enjoying the sounds that came from her lips when he did it.

He had a feeling that after tonight the number of times they made love in here might increase by one. Or two.


	52. Chapter 52

Sorry to take so super-long between updates this time. Summer got a bit crazier than I expected. But mostly in a good way. :) Massive thanks for your patience to all those still reading and, hopefully, enjoying this fic.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 52<strong>

_Las Vegas, Nevada_

_¿Qué es poesía?, dices mientras clavas_

_en mi pupila tu pupila azul._

_¿Qué es poesía? ¿Y tú me lo preguntas?_

_Poesía...eres tú._

_-GA Becquer _

Gillian Foster stared into the mirror and exhaled. Took a deep breath and then exhaled again. She was far more nervous than she hoped or expected to be, testament to how much this did mean to her. No matter how much she protested otherwise.

It was going to be a (very) small and informal wedding. Still. It was a wedding.

_She was getting married_.

She studied her reflection in the mirror, amazed at what was looking back at her. She'd hired a stylist today, recommended by the hotel concierge who'd told her that of course he could come to her room on a moment's notice and work his magic in time for the big moment.

Gillian would have been lying if said she wasn't stunned by the tall, flamboyant black man who showed up in her room two hours ago, wearing make-up that was so loud it literally screamed at her. Purple lips, pink nail polish, green eye-shadow. It should have awful but in some inexplicable way he made it work for him. He looked incredible.

Her shock must've been visible as he strolled into her room with two bulky make-up kits.

_"Oh don't you worry honey, I won't make you look like me. Or Nikki Minaj."_

_Who? _

_"I can do delicate, white faces too, darling. Patrick wouldn't recommend me if I couldn't." _

Gillian wasn't sure she'd even responded.

_"Come on, darling. Sit down. Ain't gonna bite you." _He grabbed a small bottle of liqueur from the mini-bar fridge and handed it to her. _"Here, hon. I think you're gonna need one of these. Most of my brides do. Oh sweet Jesus...look at those blue eyes." _He'd cooed in delight. _"They're gonna make this easy." _

Gillian downed the tiny bottle of whiskey and sat down, putting her freshly washed face and hair at his mercy. Not that she had many other options two hours before the wedding.

But now that she stared at herself in the mirror, she wanted to hug him all over again and wondered whether the twenty-five dollar tip she'd given him was really sufficient for the magic he'd created. For having found all the right shades and hues to match her light pink dress and making her look at least ten years younger. For creating a hairstyle that was modern and timeless all at once.

_I want to take you back to DC with me. _

"Oh my god...Gillian!"

Gillian turned around to see Cal's daughter standing almost next to her, wearing a pink dress with delicate spaghetti straps, a couple of shades darker than her own.

"Emily," she gave the young woman a hug.

"Wow..." Emily's mouth hung open. "Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?"

Her compliment was so genuine and sincere it made Gillian blush. "You too, Em. You look stunning."

Emily walked around her in a circle, inspecting everything. Touching the back of her hair with her fingers and running them along her updo. "What you did with your hair...wow, it's gorgeous." She ran her fingers along the fabric of Gillian's dress. "I have to admit...when you first showed me the dress, I thought maybe it was too plain but not that I see you wearing it...it's so perfect."

Gillian smiled. "Thanks, Em." It was a simple dress and it's what she wanted to go along with her simple wedding. She had done white and elaborate the first time around and had no desire to go that route again. This time it was four people, not counting the officiant and less than a week of planning and her dress consisted of two layers of fine silk that overlapped diagonally across the front in a deep v-neck and collided at a soft silk belt, slightly darker in colour, across the waist, before continuing to drop down to her knees. Her heels were off-white but the rest of what she wore was a light soft pink.

It made her happy.

Besides, if they'd wanted an elaborate wedding it would have had to wait. Torres was only weeks away from giving birth and when she left to go on maternity leave, it would be even harder for the two of them get away from the Group. And Cal was too impatient for all that.

So, here they were, in Las Vegas for a quick wedding and a two-day honeymoon. Back in DC they would then host a reception and celebrate with everyone at the Group as well as a handful of friends. Even Wallowski and Zoe were invited.

"Come here." Emily gestured and put an arm around Gillian's back before holding her phone up into the air in front of them. "Pre-wedding selfie, because I'm eternally sad that you're not getting a wedding photographer." she explained. "It's not every day my parents look this gorgeous."

_Parents. _It was a simple slip of the tongue. But it gave Gillian goose bumps.

"Before you start crying and messing up your amazing make-up."

"Thanks...I think."

"Smile!"

She did and loved the image that stared back at her. "You'll have to send me that one," she insisted.

"Of course. I'll frame it and you'll have to put it on your desk at work. You know...family photos."

Gillian swallowed, fighting back a sudden wave of emotion. Family. She couldn't remember the last time she was part of a family. Wasn't sure she ever would be again.

"Oh my god...stop that right now!" Emily chided her. "No crying allowed. Not before the ceremony."

"Okay, okay...but..." Gillian hesitated, knowing that what she was about to say would toy with her emotions again. "I want to thank you, Em, for coming here today, for being my maid of honour."

"It's summer break and you guys paid for my trip," Emily reminded her. "But even if you hadn't and it wasn't...there's no way I'd miss this."

"Seeing you here now, grown into this amazing young woman, reminds of the day I first met you. When your Mom couldn't pick you up after school and your Dad brought you into our old office. You were this unbelievably, adorable little seven-year old with giant eyes and pigtails. I wanted to scoop you right up into my arms. But back then I was still a little intimidated by your Dad...so I didn't."

"Yeah right," Emily quipped. "You're the only one I know who's never been the least bit intimidated by him."

"I've always wanted to have children, Em and it didn't work out for me. But the way you've let me into your life, let me be a part of it...it means a lot to me. Makes me feel in some ways that I do have a daughter and you have no idea how much I love that."

Emily's eyes were watering now. "You are not supposed to make me cry either. Did I not make that clear?"

Gillian laughed and handed her a tissue. "Sorry...wasn't my intention."

"Sure it wasn't." Emily stepped in to give her another hug. "You know I love you too, right? I mean, a _lot."_

Gillian returned her embrace and kissed the top of her head. "I know."

"By the way, I have something for you," Emily added. "Hang on." She went to where she'd dropped her purse when she came into the room and pulled out something that Gillian couldn't see. "You know that whole thing that brides are supposed to do before they walk down the aisle, the thing that says they have to wear something old, something new, something borrowed..."

"Something blue," Gillian finished for her. "I didn't really think about any of that."

"I figured you wouldn't, that's why I'm here."

"You've already got the bluest eyes ever, so you're all set there," Emily told her. "And I've seen your silver earrings before, so you have the something old covered as well. So that just leaves the something new and something borrowed parts. I'm taking care of those."

"My dress is new," Gillian pointed out. Funny how her earlier nerves were starting to settle now that she was chatting with Emily. Or maybe the mini bottle of whiskey the stylist gave her had something to do with it as well.

"Okay, fair enough, first the borrowed part then." Emily slipped the silver bracelet Gillian had given her at Christmas, off her wrist. "I'd love it if you wore this...I mean, if it's okay and you think it would fit with..."

"I'd love to," Gillian cut in before Emily had a chance to finish, letting her slip the bracelet onto her wrist. She had to loosen it a little as her arms weren't nearly as tiny as Emily's.

"I never in a million years expected you to get me something like this for Christmas. That you'd even remember me mentioning it to you. It made me feel like I was important to you...and that you really listen to me when I tell you stuff. A lot of people don't."

"Em..."

"Guess what I'm trying to say is that this bracelet means a lot to me. I'd be honoured if you wore it on your wedding day."

Gillian bit back a fresh batch of eager tears. _I'm the one who's honoured. _

"And last but not least...something new."

"I told you the dress is new." Actually, the beige Louboutins were new too. Gillian figured a wedding was a damn good excuse to indulge in a new pair of designer heels.

"Yeah but Dad insisted on this," Emily told her, presenting her with a small jewellery box. "Go on, open it."

Gillian did as she asked and slowly opened it, unsure what to expect. Stunned when she saw a striking single-solitaire diamond ring staring back at her. "Oh my god...Emily. I..I told your Dad I don't need..."

"He said you were going to say that. In fact, he gave me a piece of paper with all sorts of explanations for you. As to why you _do_ need it and why you're gonna love it."

"Explanations?"

"Hold on...I have to read this. It's too long to remember." Emily grabbed a scrunched up piece of paper from her purse and unfolded it. "He says anyone who's going to be his wife needs to let the whole world know. That and he really wants you to have one."

"Cal...I'm going to kill you."

"Wait..." Emily told her. "There's more." She started reading Cal's messy handwriting. "It says it's an ethical diamond, whatever that is, that it's from Canada. Mined from a ecologically conscious mine with fair labour practices..." Emily stopped and stared at her. "Seriously, guys? Is this what marrying a scientist is like? If you had a single romantic bone you'd write each other a love note or maybe a poem instead of this."

"This is better." Gillian grinned. "I love it."

"Seriously?"

"Makes me feel like he actually listens to me sometimes."

"Wait one more thing," Emily went on. "He says that five percent of the profits from the diamond mine goes back into local charities." She paused. "This is all good and all..but seriously? It's also the most unromantic pre-wedding note ever. _Ever_. You sure about this, Gill? You can still call it off, you know."

Gillian laughed as she fiddled with the brand new diamond ring on her finger. "Not a chance. I think I just fell in love with him a little bit more."

Emily wrinkled her nose. "At least you know what you're in for. And I have to admit, I'm kind of used to you being part of the family now."

"Me too."

"Ready?"

Gillian exhaled, her nervousness having left her completely now, replaced by a calm eagerness to see Cal standing across from her, as her husband.

"I'm ready."

* * *

><p><em>Las Vegas, Nevada<em>

Cal Lightman fastened his tie in front of the mirror while his best man looked on, adjusting it a couple of times before he decided it looked good. Or good enough.

"It's fine," Ben Reynolds grumbled.

"Just fine?" Fine didn't sound particularly convincing.

"Not_ just_ fine._ Fine_."

Lightman stared at him. Reading his best man. Seeing only disbelief on the black man's face.

"You're nervous, Lightman," Reynolds snickered. "Never thought I'd see the day."

"Nah..." Cal made a face. It was a lie but Reynolds wouldn't be able to tell. He was a good liar, after all.

"Yeah, you are."

Cal turned to Ben. "Aren't you supposed to be making this...better or easier somehow? Isn't that why we bother having a best man?"

"You finally got your smart, gorgeous best friend to marry you. God knows how you did it. But you did it. I'd say you don't need anyone making things easy for you anymore."

Cal chuckled. Ben Reynolds had a point.

"Besides, I stepped for you at the last minute didn't I? Spared you from having to grab a stranger distributing nasty pamphlets on the Strip to be a witness at your wedding."

Cal raised his brows. "That you did. You also gave us two ridiculously huge suites."

"My wedding gift to both of you."

Cal had only recently found out that Reynolds left his desk job at the FBI and moved out to Vegas a year ago, where he was now Director of Security at the fancy resort hotel they were staying at. He also had a fiancée who was five-months pregnant with their first child and judging from the contentment he'd seen more than once on his old friend's face, Cal guessed that Ben was loving his new life.

"You know I'm only messing with you, right Lightman?" Ben flashed him a toothy grin. "Wouldn't miss this for the world."

"Thanks."

"I owe you for keeping me out of prison. Never gonna forget that."

"You also owe me for getting you shot."

"Last I checked you didn't pull the trigger."

"I know..." Cal grumbled. Still he'd gotten Ben involved in one of his messes. Just as he'd done with Gillian. It's why she had a scar running down her arm and Ben walked with a slight limp. There were days when it all gnawed at him, more than he'd ever admit to anyone. Especially now when there was still a tiny voice in the back of his head telling him that he was a selfish wanker for pulling Foster even further into his messed up world.

"Hey..." Ben slapped him on the shoulder. "You alright, man? Not having second thoughts are you?"

"Nah..." Cal shook his head. "I'm the one who wanted this. Gill would've been fine to keep things the way they were. But I need to make it official. Let the world know she's mine."

Ben's grin spread all over his face. "You've got it bad."

"Think you might be right."

"Don't blame you," Ben told him, suddenly serious. "She's lovely and apparently the only who keeps you from falling off a ledge. Do you remember that case we worked in Vegas? The poker players?"

"Yeah."

"After it was all over, I offered to take Gillian out to one of the best restaurants in town, knowing she likes that stuff...good food, good wine."

"You did?"

"I did. But she turned me down. Because she was dying to see what you were up to in the casino even though she hates gambling. Should've been a dead giveaway that she was already crazy about you back then."

The thought made him feel good. "Can't wait to see her walk down the aisle."

"Me...I can't believe you two booked separate suites and haven't seen each other at all today."

"The whole thing's been a bit rushed. So we trying to stick to tradition where we can."

"Why? Is she...?"

"Is she what?"

"Pregnant?"

Cal narrowed his brows and chuckled. "No."

"Then why the rush?"

"Torres is. Pregnant." He explained. "And she's due in less than a month. If both of us wanted to get away from the Group for a few days we had to do it now. I didn't want to put it off for another half a year."

"You're sad, Lightman, you know that? Who the hell doesn't have time for their own wedding?"

Cal shrugged. "I'm here aren't I?" Foster didn't want a big wedding anyway, but he didn't feel like explaining all that to Ben.

"No photographer, no bridesmaids, no speeches?"

Cal cringed, grateful that he'd escaped all that. "No."

"Gill's fine with that?"

"Yes." _You have no idea just how fine. _The fact that she did feel the same way about this only made him love her more. "We are going to have a reception back in DC." Cal told Ben with a grin. "A massive party with a tonne of food and booze." He paused. "Be nice if you came...you and your fiancée. You can bring a camera and be our photographer."

"I'll ask Keisha."

"Flight's on me and the two of you can stay with us. It's a big house."

Ben nodded. "I'll mention it."

"But now..." Cal pointed to his Rolex when he caught a glimpse of the time. "There's a wedding I need to attend first."

* * *

><p><em>Later <em>

It was an outdoor wedding. Underneath a gazebo next to a fountain of water flowing over a small outcropping of rocks, surrounded by palm trees and exotic flowers in a rainbow of colours. A lush tropical setting in the middle of their five-star resort in the Nevada desert.

The sound of the water flowing calmed his nerves a little.

Cal was the first one there, standing underneath the white gazebo, next to the wedding minister and Ben. He could feel a fine sheen of perspiration lining the surface of his skin in the heat, underneath the layers of his suit. Habit made him want to loosen his tie but he didn't, standing a little straighter instead to give his body a bit more breathing room.

Then he spotted Emily and Gillian walking towards him and suddenly his attention wasn't on the heat anymore. Instead, it was on the dazzling young woman who was heading in his direction, wobbling just a little for a microsecond in her too-high heels, before regaining her composure and giving him a smile that melted his heart.

Cal allowed himself to soak in the sight of his daughter until she stepped aside, a few feet across from him underneath the gazebo, mouthing something to him that he couldn't quite decipher because now he was distracted by the bride.

His stomach did a little flip and his heart beat erratically for several long second until he swallowed and forced himself to breathe as he watched her make her way down the well-manicured lawn that served as their wedding aisle.

Unlike Emily's, her stride was slow and elegant, the result of a few more years of practice wearing the kind of heels that made it impossible to take his eyes off her legs.

It's what he was doing now; staring, until his eyes roamed higher, to the delicate dress that hugged her slender waist and the low, daring cut that offered just a tease of what was underneath. Until her beautiful, familiar face stood directly across from him.

To say she was a stunning bride would have been an understatement of epic proportions.

_How the hell did I get this lucky? _

"Hey," she whispered with a smile, the sound of her voice slowing down the wild beating of his heart. Steadying him, as it always did.

"Hi..." he whispered back.

"Thank you for the ring."

Cal nodded. Managing a smile. "Welcome. Gonna give you in another one in a bit." He couldn't think of anything more coherent, because he couldn't stop staring and marvelling at how beautiful she was. At all the love he saw in her eyes.

"Em said you should've written a poem to go with it," she whispered. Amused. How was it possible that she was so calm and serene, while he was overwhelmed with a maelstrom of emotions so strong that his skin felt electric. On fire.

"Sorry..." he mumbled. "Not possible to put into words all the things I feel for you."

"No need," she told him, one of her hands reaching out for his, as they stood across from each other. For a second Cal swore he saw a spark when they touched.

"Cal? Gillian?" The minister addressed them. "Are you ready to say the vows?"

Cal's eyes met with Gillian's, asking her the same question wordlessly and smiling when he read the answer on her face.

He exhaled. "Yes...we're ready."

* * *

><p><em>Mojave Desert, Nevada<em>

_Later_

"You know, we can do a real honeymoon later," Cal suggested, breaking several long minutes of silence and yawning after he'd said it.

They'd been driving for nearly two hours and had left the main highway not long ago. One of his hands rested on her thigh while she was driving, her two new rings, the diamond solitaire Emily gave her before the ceremony and the gold band Cal slipped on her ring finger in the middle of it, were glistening in the darkness as she held on to the steering wheel. Gillian wasn't used to them yet but had a feeling that it wouldn't take long.

"This _is_ a real honeymoon," she countered. Cal held up a bag of popcorn for her and she grabbed a few kernels with her right hand, popping them into her mouth. She dropped one and it fell onto her jeans before Cal scooped it up and ate it. "But if you want to take me to Paris over Christmas I won't stop you."

She saw a miniscule smile forming on the corner of his lips after he finished chewing. They were both wearing jeans and t-shirts now. Fitting attire for the middle of nowhere in the south-western US.

"You sure you won't be bored out here for two days?"

"I can think of a lot of things we can do."

"Aye, aye?"

"I brought my bikini to suntan all day."

"I'll watch."

"I will need someone to put on the suntan lotion."

"My hands might end up all over the place."

"I'm okay with this."

Cal smirked. "There's no phone reception or wifi either."

"Sounds heavenly."

"It'll just be us and the desert."

"And that crazy old guy with rifle that lives in the trailer next door."

"Oh yeah...Cooper. I forgot about him. We can still turn the car around..."

"No way." Gillian stifled a yawn as well. She insisted on driving in spite of Cal's protests because she knew the long distance would be hard on his knee. "I can't wait to be back there. Lying on the roof of that trailer, looking at the stars with you. Can't think of a more beautiful place to spend my first night as your wife although I do feel a little guilty for leaving Em in Vegas while we took off into the desert."

"Don't," Cal chided her. "She's only there for another night before she flies back to San Francisco tomorrow morning. And I think she's more excited about seeing that new Cirque du Soleil show with Ben and his fiancée than she was about our wedding."

"I don't know about that...but alright."

Gillian followed Cal's directions when he told her to turn right, marvelling that he knew exactly where they were headed, out here in the desert, in complete darkness without so much as a map or a GPS to guide them. His brilliant mind was so damn sexy sometimes.

"Almost there, luv," he told her with another squeeze of her thigh. "Few more minutes."

He was right about that too, because it was less than five minutes until she spotted light coming out of nowhere. Light from the window of their trailer and drops of light leading up to it.

Gillian stopped the car when they were close enough. "What's this?" she questioned, puzzled. "Is someone there?"

"Go on," he told her, unfastening his seat belt. "Check it out."

When she stepped out of the car and stretched her limbs, she could see them more clearly. A dozen tea lights inside silver-coloured tins illuminated a path for them on the dusty earth, leading up to the trailer.

"Wow..." Gillian was stunned and turned to Cal, who had a grin on his face. "How did you do this?"

It was more than a path of tea lights beckoning them to the trailer. There were additional ones on its roof, tiny pulsating orbs of light that outlined its silhouette.

Cal gave Gillian a little push towards the door, while her eyes tried to soak it all in.

"It's so beautiful..." she whispered.

He moved to her side and put an arm around her shoulders. "Go on."

Together they walked to the unlocked door and Gillian opened it, stepping inside. It was dark too, except for a half dozen candles on the kitchen counter, emitting just enough light that she could make out a bottle of champagne sitting in a bucket of melting ice by the sofa, next to two glass flutes.

"_How_...?" She questioned Cal. Speechless. He would have had to pay crazy old Cooper to set this up...or maybe his friend who owned the trailer...

Cal's index finger was on her lips and then he pulled her close. "Not giving away my sources."

Gillian let him lead her to the bed at the rear of the trailer and sank down on it, with him following suit, kissing her as he lowered himself down. It was only when his lips let go of hers and he was lying next to her that she noticed that the bed was covered in rose petals. She reached out for a bunch and held them up to her nose so she could breathe in the scent.

She turned her head sideways with a smile. "I don't know how you did this...but I love it."

He turned sideways too, looking at her with a satisfied grin. "Not just a pretty face, you know."

Her hand moves to caress his face, trailing the familiar lines she loved so much. "No. You're not."

"You have any idea how happy you made me today?" he asked her.

"I do." Gillian curled into him, letting him run his fingers through her hair as she slid a leg over his. "I love you."

Cal pushed himself back up and made a futile effort to pull her up too. "Champagne?" Then he pointed to the ceiling. "Stars?"

"Yes and yes," she smiled contentedly, making no move to get off the bedspread covered in red petals. Instead, she pulled him back down into another kiss, one that was longer, harder and hungrier than the first one they shared. "After."

"Ice is gonna melt..." he pointed out in a feeble protest.

Gillian could feel his skin getting warmer, his breathing heavier. "I don't mind. Do you?"

"No." He was already taking off her clothes. Then he stopped. "Yes..."

"_Yes?"_

"I mean no..." His arm slipped under her back and he pulled her up. "Don't give a damn about the ice but let's do this on the roof."

"You want to..._on the roof_?"

"That's right." He got up and poured them both some champagne, handing her a glass. They clinked them together. "To us."

Gillian raised her glass to the toast. "To us. We made it."

Cal nodded, suddenly serious. "We did, didn't we?"

"Yeah...we did." She shuddered at the thought of how close they'd been to losing each other. More than once.

Cal read her face and acknowledged the things he saw, before he gave her a gentle nudge towards the step ladder that was set against the kitchen counter.

Gillian climbed up it and pushed open the sky-light window that led to the roof, hoisting herself out on to it with a little help from Cal underneath. This time they wouldn't have to drag up blankets and pillows. Everything was already there, including a handful of candles, flames flickering wildly inside ceramic holders, competing with a million stars shining above.

All of it was so beautiful it took her breath away.

Cal came up behind her, slowly and carefully, carrying the bottle of champagne and two empty glasses in one hand, plopping them down on the roof once he got to the top.

He saw her staring at the night sky. "Nice, isn't it?"

"It's incredible."

He poured them some more champagne and set the glasses down next to the blanket before taking off his shirt and jeans and crawling underneath it, motioning for her to join him under the covers.

Gillian slipped out of her clothes too before she snuggled up against him. "Thanks for making me come up here."

"Knew you'd wanna be here tonight."

"You know me so well."

"Sometimes...I think I do," he agreed while staring up into the stars. "Other days I think I've barely scratched the surface."

"Really?"

He turned to her, away from the stars and pulled her close. "S'alright. I don't mind. Now I can spend the rest of my life peeling away the layers."

"Scary thought."

His wandering hands were under the blanket, on her ass at first then on her waist, manoeuvring their bodies closer together while his lips staked their claim on hers, continuing where they'd left off downstairs. "Bloody fantastic thought if you ask me."


	53. Chapter 53

**A/N**: I originally planned to post this final chapter along with the epilogue that follows it and which takes a glimpse into the future. But then the epilogue turned out to be a little longer than I'd planned (I know you are all shocked) so I decided to separate the two and will post it on its own (within the week I hope, as it's almost done). This last chapter is from Gillian's POV, but the epilogue will be from Cal's.

Or maybe I'm just getting sentimental about ending this super long fic and am trying to delay putting a "complete" stamp on it just a little bit longer. :)

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 53 <strong>

_Washington DC, Lightman Residence_

_Two weeks later _

"I didn't think our yard could hold this many people," Gillian marvelled with a mix of panic and awe, staring out onto the back yard from the living room window.

Cal was standing behind her after grabbing another case of drinks to take outside to their massive reception, complete with tents and giant BBQ grills. Thank god they'd hired a catering company to help them with the food and the cooking. "Who knew we were so popular?"

Gillian grinned. "I love it. All my favourite people are there. Except for Emily...but I keep taking photos and sending them to her. I want her to feel like she's part of it." Emily had found a summer job in San Francisco and decided to stay there, except for a brief visit just before the start of her Fall classes.

"This is why she only texts you."

"Probably." Gillian felt his lips on her neck, kissing it until Alex Almeida stepped into the kitchen with a mock cough.

"I came here to give you a hand," he told them. "But it looks like you have it all covered."

"We are newlyweds," Cal shot back. "We get to make-out in front of everyone for at least another six months."

Gillian cringed. "We do?"

"Months? Did I say months? I meant six years."

Gillian gave him a little shove. "We're hosting a party...go and be social."

"Aye, aye." Cal gave her and Almeida a little nod and headed back outside to the fifty or so people that filled their backyard. Including about a half dozen dogs and several kids. Thankfully it was a gorgeous, sunny day. Gillian didn't even want to think about the logistics of trying to move all of them inside.

"You sure I can't do anything?" Almeida asked her.

"You can..." Gillian answered. "Go out and enjoy yourself."

"And you'll stay in here and brood?"

Gillian smirked. "No...I just needed a moment."

"Are things really okay with you?" he asked her. "It's been too crazy busy for us to really catch up since..."

"Since I went away to South Carolina?" she finished for him.

"Yes."

Gillian leaned against the kitchen counter and pondered the question, trying to answer it honestly. "Yeah, they are. I still have my moments...mostly in the middle of the night, when I still see his face and I wonder if it'll ever go away completely, but now, it doesn't feel...insurmountable anymore, you know? The therapist I'm seeing...she's really good. I feel like I can fight it and deal with those moments, even if I hate that I still have them. And Cal..." she paused again. "He's been amazing."

"He loves you."

"I know."

She stared at the floor for a moment. "You've been amazing too. Not sure I've thanked you for it."

"I'm sure you have. Not that you need to."

"I do." Gillian's mind went back to the time she could barely step into her old house without losing it. To Alex guiding her every step of the way.

"You and me," he told her. "We help each other. You made my job at the prison bearable again and I kept you in one piece during the lockdowns. You gave me the push I needed to leave that place and join the Lightman Group...me, I pushed you to South Carolina."

"Yeah..." Gillian smiled, grateful to have him in her life. "Something like that."

He grabbed two glasses and poured some white wine into each of them before raising them into a toast. "Cheers."

She clinked her glass with his. "Cheers."

He cocked his head towards the backyard. "Let's go outside. I want to see Maurice try not to mess with the caterers. He can't stand to have other people cook for him. Doesn't think anyone else can do it right."

"Sometimes I wish Cal felt the same way..."

They stepped into the backyard together where Zoe Landau was one of the first people Gillian ran into.

Cal's ex-wife gave her a hug and it genuinely felt like meeting up with an old friend. All it took was living together for a few days after the man they both loved nearly died. Gillian returned Zoe's embrace.

"You look great, Gill," Zoe told her. "Good to see that it's possible to thrive around Lightman."

"I heard that!" Cal stepped in from behind them, with Sharon Wallowski in tow. Cal gave his ex-wife a kiss on the cheek. "Who invited you anyway?"

Gillian smirked as she looked at Zoe. Cal's ex, wearing a short, white summer dress and matching white wedge heels, looked great too, as usual. Nearly a head taller than she was. "I did."

A little boy, maybe about eight or nine, with dark hair, holding a hot dog bun came running towards all of them.

"I don't think you've met my step son," Zoe introduced him to the rest of them. "Javier, this is Doctor Lightman."

The little boy held out his hand. "You're the lie doctor, right?"

"That's right," Cal told him and then Javier promptly tested him to see whether he could spot the lies in what he was telling him.

Nearly everyone they knew was there. Everyone who'd somehow touched their lives in the last few years.

Sharon Wallowski and her shy new boyfriend, Edwin. A florist with a tattoo of a purple rose on his bicep.

Dmitry, their wild new natural, who came dressed in a black leather jacket and ruffled tutu skirt. (They began implementing a business dress code at the Group only on account of his attire). He gave them a beautiful handmade embroidered table-cloth from the Ukraine as a wedding gift.

Maurice and Alex and their two poodles, who ran around Moritz and tormented him all night long.

Ria, who was huge and glowing and radiant, and mostly stayed seated at one of their banquet tables. Next to Eli Loker, who rarely ventured far from her side.

Ben Reynolds and his beautiful fiancée.

A dozen or so new employees, along with their spouses and a handful of friends they'd known individually even before the Lightman Group existed.

They tried to spend time with everyone. Mingling, chatting, laughing, drinking, eating. Later on there were speeches too, some more sober than others. And then music and dancing long after the sun went down.

It was nearly three in the morning by the time Gillian collapsed into bed next to Cal, not bothering to take off more than her shoes. Maybe if she got a second wind she'd get up again. Or maybe not.

Cal did the same, lying on his back, one arm reaching for her.

"What a night..." she groaned, her head nuzzling into the crook of his arm. She drank too much and figured she'd pay the price soon. But it was worth it.

"Bloody fantastic, wasn't it?"

"Best part," Gillian giggled. "Was when Loker gave his speech and Moritz started sniffing between his legs."

"I kinda liked the part where Alex's boyfriend cursed one of the caterers in French, put on an apron and started grilling the meat himself."

"Or how about when Dmitry started teaching Javi Ukrainian drinking songs?"

Lightman chuckled. "I'm guessing it was probably for the best none of us had any idea what he was saying."

"What a party..." Gillian mumbled. She was fading fast.

"S'just the beginning..." Cal slurred in return.

His quiet snoring was the last thing she heard before she drifted off.

* * *

><p><em>Lightman Group Offices, Washington DC<em>

_One week later _

It was just after 8am and Gillian Foster's attention was focused on reviewing the brand new CIA contract in front of her. Her eyes scanned the fine print and it would have taken something major to break her concentration.

Something like Eli Loker racing in her office yelling. "It's happening!"

"What?" Gillian turned her attention away from the document in her hands, placed it aside and looked at Loker. "What's happening?"

"Ria." he exclaimed. "Her water broke. She's...she's having the baby. Our baby."

Gillian stood up, noticing that Loker was starting to pace. "Hey...that's great. She was due...past due, right?" Ria Torres had worked her last day five days ago.

"Yeah, yeah...she was. Is."

"Hey," Gillian put a hand on his arm. "Calm down. Tell me, where is she? Is she on the way to the hospital?"

He nodded. "Yeah. She said she's taking a taxi to the hospital. Is that even a good idea? Shouldn't she have called an ambulance?"

Gillian fought back a smile. "It's fine...really. There's usually some time after the water breaks before...you know, before the baby's born. You did go to some prenatal classes with Ria didn't you?"

"I did. I know." He was still restless. "I came to see you because I want to leave. To be there with her at the hospital."

Gillian nodded. Cal was already on the road to Baltimore with Pradeep, one of their new behavioural science doctors, to work a case. "Yes. Of course. Go! Keep me posted."

"I will. Thanks."

He was already halfway out the door when Gillian thought about it and called after him. "Loker?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you want me to come with you?"

He was about to say no. But then he gave her an almost imperceptible nod. "Would you?"

* * *

><p><em>Sibley Memorial Hospital. Washington DC<em>

_Later _

Six hours later Eli Loker was still pacing. He was going in circles in a bright, colourful waiting room in the maternity ward. In between poking his head into Ria's room and staying with her until she told him to get lost and then he went back to pacing. It was a process that he'd repeated eight times so far. Not that Gillian was trying to keep track.

She was in the middle of answering an e-mail on her phone when Loker stopped pacing and stood in front of her, wringing his hand.

"How do you do this? How do women even go through this?"

She put her phone down. "I'm probably the wrong person to ask. But I have a feeling you'd do the same knowing it was your child that's about to come into the world."

Loker turned a little paler still. "She's been in labour for five hours already."

Gillian stood up and put her phone away. "It might be a lot longer than that. You do know that, right? Especially given that it's her first."

Loker swallowed. "I know...I just can't...stand seeing her like this. Pretending to encourage her when the truth is I'm completely terrified. And let's face...it's not like she can't tell that I'm pretending."

Gillian smirked. "Doesn't matter. Do it anyway. It's what she needs right now. Do you want me to stay with her for a bit?"

"No...she said she wants no one around right now." He smiled a lopsided smile. "She'll change her mind in about twenty minutes."

"Alright...let's take twenty minutes and find a cafeteria and get some food." She was starving.

"I dunno...I don't want to leave..."

"Loker?" she raised brows. "Come on, she needs you to be functional. And I need food."

"Okay, if you put it that way," he conceded and they were about walk down the hallway when he stopped her. "Foster?"

"Yes?"

"You don't have to stay. Go home or to the office or wherever you need to be. I'll be okay. Really."

"I know. But I'm fine to stay."

"You don't have to..."

"Remember that time when I had the accident in Cal's office?"

Loker nodded, uncomfortable. None of them ever mentioned it out loud since that night. At least not in the office. Although Loker sometimes wondered whether his bosses ever discussed it among themselves. After all Foster did have a permanent reminder of it etched on her arm.

"You didn't only come to the hospital with me, you went to my place to get me a change or clothes and then made sure I got home alright."

"You don't have to think that you owe me anything for that..."

"I don't think that," Gillian pointed out. "But you and Torres you stuck with the Lightman Group through _everything _this past year and a half...and a lot of it wasn't good. You're not just employees to us. You know that right?"

Loker nodded. "Yeah...I, we do."

"Good." She gave him a push into the elevator. "Now stop this nonsense and let's get some food before you become a Dad."

* * *

><p><em>Later <em>

It was nearly nine o'clock at night and six innings into an Orioles game on the waiting room TV when Gillian felt a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it.

"Hi, luv." Cal bent down to give her kiss before sitting down next to her.

"I want to go to a game," she told him, pointing at the TV. "Before the summer's over."

Cal made a face. "Baseball? You know I haven't the foggiest when it comes to that sport. Is it even a sport?"

She squeezed his thigh. "It's like cricket. Except it doesn't take days to finish a game," she told him. "How was Baltimore?" she asked.

Cal shrugged. "Was alright. Gonna leave that one to Pradeep. Company wants to know how to figure out what's going on with their employees. They've been exhibiting some interesting behaviours."

"Like?"

Cal grinned. "You don't wanna know. Trust me when I say this one's best left to our social psych expert. Might ask Loker to have a look at it as well. No one knows herd behaviour like he does."

Gillian sighed. "I don't think Loker's mind is going to be on much else but the baby the next week or so. I told him he could take the time off."

Cal groaned. "'Course you did."

"You'd have done the same. Don't even pretend otherwise."

The fact that he didn't deny it made her realize she was right. After five seconds in his seat he was fidgeting already. He really was a seven-year old in a genius' body sometimes.

"You gonna stay here all night, luv?"

"I don't think it's going to take all night," she told him. "She's at the pushing-out stage."

Now Cal was grinning. "Looks like I made it just in time."

"You know..." Gillian didn't get a chance to finish her sentence when Eli Loker came running out into the waiting room. His eyes were wet and his face was flushed. Emotional overload.

"She's here," he announced giddily. "My daughter's here! Do you...do you want to meet her?"

Gillian jumped up. "Yes! Of course."

She followed him into the room, alongside Cal, who announced to anyone willing to listen that he had the best timing in the world, to where an exhausted, beaming Ria Torres held a tiny bundle of life in her arms.

"Oh my god, Ria," Gillian exclaimed with a giant smile. "She is so perfect and beautiful."

The tiny baby had generous amount of dark, wavy hair covering the top of her head. She yawned and made a clumsy attempt to stretch her arms.

"Isn't she?" Loker agreed, his smile wider than hers. "Absolutely perfect."

Cal squeezed Ria's arm. "You did good, Mama Torres."

"It's incredible, isn't it?" she nodded. "I have a daughter."

"How are you doing?"

Ria exhaled and shook her head. "Honestly...I don't know. I'm so stupidly tired and in pain...but I don't care. I did it. I brought her into this world and she's okay and that's all that matters."

Gillian's eyes started to water. In spite of sitting in the hospital with Loker all day, she wasn't quite prepared for it. For the fact that it made her think of the daughter she'd once held right after she was born. And then lost only two months later.

"Do you wanna hold her?" Ria asked.

Gillian nodded not trusting her voice as she picked up the little bundle. Sheer happiness mingled with her sadness when she held the baby close.

"What's her name?" Cal asked. He saw her reaction and knew she'd want him to try and make sure the others didn't.

"We didn't decide until a few days ago," Eli answered.

"And?"

"Her name is Ella," Ria told them. "Ella Luz."

"Ella, Eli...get it?" Loker grinned. "And Luz, it means..."

"Light," Gillian smiled.

Ria turned to Cal. "Since you told me a while back that she was going to be the first Lightman baby, we thought it would be fitting."

"Ella Luz," Cal repeated. "I like it."

Then Ria turned to Loker. "Did you ask them?"

"Ask us what?" Cal wanted to know.

"I, uh...I didn't quite."

"Really Eli?" Ria sighed.

"We, uh..." Eli turned to Gillian first then to Lightman and he swallowing as if it the words got stuck in his throat. "We wondered if you two would be okay if we asked you to be Ella's godparents."

Cal raised his brows. "Godparents?"

"Yes!" Gillian answered for them. "We'd love to. Of course...yes."

"Yes?" Cal turned to her, stared while she still held the tiny baby.

"Yes," she repeated with a certainty that told him he didn't really have a choice.

Cal shrugged his shoulders when he turned back to Loker. "Guess that's a yes then. A definite yes."

"Thank you," Ria told them. "It means a lot to us."

"Aren't the godparents supposed to be responsible for the religious upbringing of this child?" Cal questioned.

Loker couldn't stop grinning. "You can if you'd like. But mostly we were just hoping to have an excuse to drop her off at your place every now and then for some free babysitting."

"Deal," Gillian told him, unable to take her eyes of the perfect little girl in her arms.

Cal moved to her side and cooed to the baby with a smile on his face. Gillian knew that it was probably taking him back in time too. To when he laid eyes on his own daughter for the first time. "Alright then. In that case, welcome to your new family, Ella Luz."


	54. Epilogue

**A/N: **When I look at the "published" date of this fic, it's hard to believe that it was nearly three years ago that I posted chapter one. Needless to say, it's also hard to say bye to something that was part of my life for nearly three years. Sometimes when I had a bad day, I'd open this story, write a few paragraphs and escape into a world of my own creation, full of all my favourite characters. Fictional comfort food.

I think it was Toni Morrison who said, "I wrote my first novel because I wanted to read it" and no other writer's quote rings more true to me than this one. I still have loads to learn as a writer and I usually want to start editing my chapters about five minutes after posting them, but at the end of the day, as much as I nitpick over them, I like reading my own stories and knowing someone else might have enjoyed them as well, is just the icing on the cake.

I don't have another story on the go at the moment but I don't feel like I've quite exhausted my love for this fandom, so there might be a couple more in the near future. In the meantime I'm looking forward to being a reader so if you could provide me with lots to read that would be awesome. (Looking greedily at you: whathobertie, solveariddle, Beloved-the-Fool and Elaine).

Last but not least, a big thanks and massive shout-out to those who stop by with your feedback, especially those who did it for nearly every chapter. You know who you are and you are more awesome than I can put into words. Special thanks also to solveariddle, deenikn8, Kathleen and pjstillnoon, who are my LTM sounding boards. And to GDA, who is always willing to proof-read for me, even when I wasn't able to write fast enough for her to do it.

I mentioned in the first chapter that this fic was inspired by two James Morrison songs, one of which (Broken Strings) was about knowing when to let go, the other (I Won't Let You Go) about not wanting to let go. I always knew that the first part of the story would be about the first song and the second about the latter. Even if it took me 54 chapters to get that theme across.

* * *

><p><strong>Epilogue <strong>

_Washington DC, USA _

_Lightman Group Offices_

_Five Years Later _

_"If your sky is falling_

_Just take my hand and hold it_

_You don't have to be alone_

_I won't let you go." _

_-J.M _

Cal Lightman ambled down the corridor of his company. It was late afternoon and he could hear the sounds of toddlers in the distance when he heard a door opening at the end of the hallway. The sound muffled and then faded again as soon as the door closed.

A young woman stepped out of the room, holding on to a little boy wearing denim overalls. She saw him and gave him a little wave. "Good night, Dr. Lightman."

"'Night, Margarita."

Cal walked over to the door and peered through its glass window. He could tell which one of his staff members were still in the office by looking at the kids still left inside the room, playing in the Lightman Group Daycare.

It had been Gillian's idea. Of course. They'd opened it nearly three years ago after two of their staff had kids at the same time and one of them had considered quitting to be a stay-at-home Mom.

They'd butted heads over it at the time. As they were apt to do over a lot of things that concerned the Lightman Group.

_"We're gonna open a daycare to accommodate two babies?" _

_"Ella can use it too. And Pradeep has a three-year old. Four kids now. Maybe more later." _

_"We'll have to hire staff to man it. Conform to regulations and all that...you have any idea how much it'll cost, luv?" _

_"Those using it will pay a fee. A reasonable fee. It means we'll keep Margarita and we'll have an amazing perk to offer any new employees. It'll be worth it. Many times over." _

Cal hadn't been convinced of it at the time. But he'd stopped protesting when Gillian went through with it and maybe now he had to agree that she'd been right. One of the city's top researchers had chosen them over Rader's firm when making the jump from a government job. Because she had two young kids and the Lightman Group could offer her affordable on-site day care.

And although he hated to admit it, after all was said and done, Cal liked it. Liked that it set his company apart from the rest in his field and that it put a smile on Gillian's face whenever one of the little rug rats escaped out into the hallways and was promptly chased by one of their frantic child care providers.

There were only two kids inside the room now. A blonde, green-eyed one-year old named Charlotte. And little Mario Torres, who was every bit his mother, while his sister Ella looked a little more like her father every day.

Torres wouldn't pick him up today because she was in Houston with Foster. That meant Loker would swing by and Lightman was tempted to stay a few minutes in order to chance a meeting with him.

Eli Loker no longer worked for the Lightman Group.

He left over two years ago and his resignation had stunned Cal. He who could spot a lie or a change in someone's mood a mile away, hadn't seen this one coming. If anyone had asked him which one of his employees would stay 'til the bitter end, he'd have placed his bets on Loker. Would even have put him ahead of Gillian. After all, Gillian only loved him. She didn't worship him the way Loker did.

_"I'm not leaving because I'm unhappy. It's just...it's time for me to step out of your shadow..." _

_"Did Torres tell you to say that? She did, didn't she?" _

He'd been a jerk when Loker had come to see him. Cal could admit that now. He didn't take kindly to being blindsided.

_"No...I'm saying that." _Loker had been so nervous, Cal couldn't sworn he was close to pissing his pants. "_But...but...she agrees. I have a really good opportunity and I'm going to take it."_

_"Go on, then. Take it." _

And that was the extent of Eli Loker's exit interview. Gillian hadn't approved but he'd have been lying if he said he cared. Loyalty meant something to him and Loker ditching the company out of the blue felt like the opposite of loyalty. Maybe it wasn't entirely rational but there it was.

Cal didn't speak to him for months afterwards.

Until Gillian put a stop to it. Her head was resting on his naked chest one night, right after they'd made love. He'd been mellow and content and she knew it. Perfect time to launch her attack.

_"I've humoured your outrage at him quitting long enough. Ria invited us to her baby shower and I want to go. With you." _

_"I hate these things...don't drag me to them." _

_"We're Ella's godparents. Both of us. Not just me." _

_"This isn't Ella's baby shower, is it? This is an entirely different kid. " _

Gillian had moved her head off his chest, propped herself up on an elbow and narrowed her blue-eyes icily as she stared at him. _"Not funny." _

_"What do you want me to do?" _

_"Come to the shower. Be civil to Eli. I want you to get over him leaving the Lightman Group. He needed to find his own footing and he couldn't do that while staying with us. It wasn't personal." _

_"You done psycho-babbling?" _

_"No. I'm not." _Her eyes were still locked with his. _"Truth is he did it partly to earn your respect. Because he was smart enough to know he'd never get it while standing under your umbrella." _

_"He told you this?" _

_"No. He didn't have to." _

_"You just know, do you?" _

_"I know he idolizes you. I know he stayed with us during our company's darkest days when we were this close to going bankrupt. I know if he wanted to stick it to you by leaving he would have done it then. I also know that I adore him and Ria, and that you do too...in spite of your irrational anger." _

This was the problem with Foster's reasoning. It was always so...reasonable.

Enough so that he didn't have anything else to say. She was right. He would never have respected Eli Loker had as long as he'd stayed on under his thumb at the Lightman Group.

Gillian's gaze had softened then. Not that he'd been truly angry with her to start and needed coddling. As if that was possible when her warm, naked body was entwined with his. _"Truth be told, I don't think you're even that angry with him. You're just annoyed because you didn't see it coming. The great Doctor Lightman, foiled by his protégé." _

_"Is that right?" _It was easy to forget sometimes, that he wasn't the only one who was really good at what they did.

_"Come with me this weekend. Please," _she added simply. _"I don't want to go alone." _

And that was that.

It's why they didn't fight very often. Because Gillian was so goddamn awful at it. She asked him sometimes, whether he didn't miss the kind of heated arguments he used to have with Zoe. So Cal told her he did just to get a rise out of her.

But it was a lie. He didn't. Not one bit.

Cal had gone to the baby shower that weekend and he even had a beer with Loker and enjoyed himself a little.

Now it was all water under the bridge and he debated waiting around to see him because there was a case they were working on right now where a cluster of teenagers were exhibiting some undeniable herd behaviour and he wanted to pick Loker's brain.

Lightman thought about it and then kept walking. He didn't have time to wait around for Loker to show up and pick up his eighteen month-old son.

Cal had a flight to catch tonight and a teenager of his own to get home to.

* * *

><p><em>Lightman Residence, Washington DC<em>

_Later _

Cal zipped up his carry-on suitcase and yanked it out in the corridor where Moritz stood staring at him with big droopy eyes.

"That's right," Cal mumbled to the dog. "Vacation time with the Almeida poodles." He chuckled. "I'll bring the anti-anxiety meds for you."

He glanced at his Rolex and yelled down the hallway. "You ready?"

"Not yet," was the reply.

Cal groaned. _Bloody hell. _

He poked his head into the bedroom that was occupied by fourteen-year old Tyrone for the last two years.

"Why not?" Cal asked him.

"Almost," was the answer and Cal was mildly impressed that he actually got two whole syllables out of him. He observed the teenager folding his two favourite t-shirts into a suitcase that was slightly bigger than Cal's own carry-on. What fourteen-year old kid folded his clothes? God knows he'd never seen Emily do it in her teenage years. Getting her to put them in a drawer was achievement enough.

_A kid who never used to own anything worth folding before he came here, _Cal answered his own question.

Cal sat down on Tyrone's bed. "You know you're only going for two nights, right?"

"I know." Tyrone kept folding without looking at him, putting another t-shirt into his suitcase. Meaning he'd have to change clothes three times a day to justify everything that was going into the suitcase.

Cal humoured him and didn't say anything, sitting next to him in silence, while he finished packing. Tyrone didn't mind silence. In fact, he preferred it. The parts of his childhood were he wasn't shoved in a closet or kicked around, he was mostly ignored. He was used to silence.

Tyrone was a world of difference from the first kid they fostered.

They took in the first one almost four years ago, a bubbly, precocious eight-year old girl named Serena. She was with them for six-months while her mother was serving time and temporarily lost custody.

During her entire six months with them she barely stopped talking. About anything and everything. There were still a handful of photos of her all over the house. Gillian and Serena under Lincoln's watchful eye at the Mall. Serena and Emily playing with Moritz in the back yard. All four of them celebrating her birthday at Cheesecake Factory.

It had been exceptionally hard to let her go, even if Gillian tried to put on a brave front. He knew she'd shed her fair share of tears when they had to give the little girl back. Even though they suspected the day would come. Sooner rather than later.

It hurt so much so that Cal didn't ever want to do it again.

_"It's gonna break your heart every time we have to give them back." _He'd admitted. "_I hate it." _

Gillian had shrugged her shoulders. _"So what, Cal? Am I really that fragile that you think I can't handle it?" _

It wasn't that. Truth was he wasn't sure he could handle it. Seeing her hurt would always bother him more than hurting himself.

_"Are we never going to get another pet after Moritz dies either?" _

He'd stopped just short of rolling his eyes. _"Not quite the same, luv." _Although it was a good question. He couldn't imagine another animal ever taking the place of the big Bernese lug.

_"We have this giant house, Cal...with a dog and a yard and fireplace and two extra bedrooms we don't use. We have so much. If we can pluck just one kid out of a miserable situation and give him or her a home and an education and stability for a little while...who knows what kind of impact it'll have on them? Don't tell me that's not worth a few tears." _

Six months later they took in their second foster kid. Twelve-year old Tyrone whom the cops had found cowering in the closet of a filthy one-room apartment during a drug bust and who ended up a ward of the state after they arrested his aunt and mother.

For the first few weeks he barely spoke more than a few words. Barely made eye contact and avoided human touch whenever possible. Getting to know him had been like pulling teeth and they only periodically extracted little details thanks to a mix of chance and persistence.

Theyt found out that he preferred baseball over football, was an Orioles fan, of all things. That his reading levels were those of a ten-year old but he had a surprising aptitude for math. That his favourite video game was Call of Duty. He was scared of the dark because as a kid his mother used to lock him a closet whenever she was brokering a drug deal. Or entertaining men she didn't want him to see.

Tyrone had to keep at least one light on at night. At all times. He had a brother who died when he was nine. But in spite of all the abuse and neglect he'd grown up with he wasn't a violent kid. Angry sometimes, but never violent. His bursts of anger came out of nowhere but they were mostly directed at himself, in the form of punching concrete walls and stop signs, leaving him with bloody fists and cuts and bruises.

It was something Cal could relate to and something he could help him reign in with equal amounts of love and tough love. Tyrone needed a father figure so badly it broke Cal's heart sometimes.

Truth was, he was never going to be a happy, well-adjusted kid like Emily. He had some issues that would continue to haunt him well into adulthood, no matter how much love and stability they showered him with now. You couldn't make up for twelve years of lost time during a person's most important stage of development. Some of that damage was irreversible.

But you could make a difference and the difference between the Tyrone they took into their home two years ago and the Tyrone who lived there now was astounding.

He made eye-contact when you talked to him now. He initiated conversations at the dinner table. He was getting B's and C's at school and this semester was the first one where he wasn't failing a single class. And half a year ago he'd given Gillian a hug for the first time. Just like that. Cal had watched as his wife fought back tears and held him tight.

Maybe Gillian was right. Maybe it was worth it.

"Now I'm ready," Tyrone announced, bringing him back to the present.

"Finally." Cal got up and watched him lug his needlessly heavy suitcase out of the bedroom.

"Next time you go I wanna stay here, " he mumbled while inching down the hallway. "I'm not a kid anymore."

"Not happening."

"How come?"

"You know why."

Tyrone gave him a sullen look. "Cause of those guys that showed up here." It wasn't a question.

"That's right."

"I don't think they're gonna come back. They were all high. Probably wouldn't find this place again."

Cal sucked in his lower lip and bit it. Felt the taste of blood. Tyrone was struggling to haul his suitcase down the stairs but Cal made no move to help him. Self reliance was good thing. Plus it might teach him not to over pack next time.

He hoped to hell that Tyrone was right about those guys not coming back. Just the thought gave him chills. It was only two punk kids from his old life who'd somehow found out where Tyrone was living and decided they wanted to rob his new family.

Cal had been home that day and he'd held both of them back with his own two fists. Had chuckled when one them suggested he might go to the police before limping off the property.

_"How come you know how to fight like that?" _a stunned Tyrone asked him afterwards, watching him as Cal ran his bloody fists under a steady stream of cold water in the bathroom.

Cal hadn't answered. Too full of rage at the moment to explain the miserable youth that honed his skills.

_"Did you tell anyone where you live?" _

Tyrone's eyes had widened in genuine surprise. _"No." _

_"You swear to me?" _

_"I swear..." _

_"You swear?" _

_"Yeah, I swear, man. I swear!" _

He was telling the truth. Cal had seen it and it dulled his rage a little. _"You need to swear something else to me, Tyrone," _he'd added, turning off the water and facing his foster son. _"If it happens again and Gillian's home instead of me..._" He'd paused because it wasn't something he wanted to imagine. But it had to be said. _"If that happens...you do exactly what I did for you. You fight and you hold them back and you keep her out of it. You got it?" _

_"Yeah...got it." _

_"You swear to me?" _

_"I'm not good at fighting." _

_"I don't care if you're good at it. You're a big guy. Man up." _

_"My brother fought back and he got shot dead." _

Cal had swallowed speechless for a moment before his anger kicked back in. What if they _had_ been armed? What if...what if it was Gillian here instead of him?

_"I'm sorry about that. You have no idea how much. But you still gotta promise me, alright?" _

_"Yeah. Promise." _

He signed Tyrone up for boxing classes a week later. Gillian had protested but this was one argument she lost. He'd convinced her that Tyrone needed an outlet for his anger and he needed to know that he was stronger than he thought.

Cal was still convinced it was a good idea. It got him out of the house, forced him to talk to others and it made him a little less fearful. He wasn't putting a gun in the kid's hand, he was just making him aware that it was a tough world. That if he didn't stand up to it he'd get run over before he knew what hit him.

Then only a week ago he was sitting at the breakfast table with Gillian, after getting up early with her for a change because he had a follow up appointment with his physiotherapist.

_"I went to see Tyrone's social worker yesterday." _

Cal poured himself some freshly brewed coffee, waiting for more. He'd seen that there was something on her mind last night but he didn't press when she didn't volunteer. Even after several years of marriage, remnants of the Line still existed between them.

Gillian clasped her hands around her own coffee mug and took a sip. _"She told me that Tonya, his aunt, got into a fight at the prison. That she messed up her last chance of an early release." _

_"I see." _

_"She's going to be in there at least another five years. Along with his mother. Tyrone will be a legal adult by the time they get out." _

He'd smirked. _"Was that her way of saying we're stuck with him?" _

Gillian exhaled, not responding to his attempts to lighten her mood. He couldn't quite read her.

_"You alright with that?" _he'd asked. Serious too now.

_"She asked me if had any interest in filing for adoption." _

_"Ah..." _He understood now why she was so serious. _"What'd you tell her?" _

She'd set down her coffee cup. _"I told her that...we hadn't thought about it." _

_"That's the truth." _

_"What _do_ we think about it?" _

_"What do _you_ think about it?" _

_"I think..." _She'd paused and weighed her words. Classic Gillian. _"Cal, he's lived with us for over two years. We do homework, eat dinner and watch basketball together. He makes me crazy and proud and happy all in the course of one day. Over two years, Cal. He's part of the family already, isn't he? I hate the idea of social services coming by one day and telling us he has to leave. To be with some distant relative that hasn't stopped by to see how he's doing once in the last two years." _

_"If we adopt him that can't happen anymore" _Cal had pointed out.

If they adopted him it also meant they couldn't opt out anymore if Tyrone's old neighbourhood thugs stopped by their house again. Couldn't tell social services they hadn't signed on for that kind of madness and kindly ask them to find another family for his long term houseguest.

All of it had weighed heavily on him that morning and he admitted it to his wife.

_"I don't see you handing him back either way. You love that kid and the Cal Lightman I know wouldn't back off a fight." _

_"He might if you're caught in the middle." _

She'd woven her fingers into his. _"We can't teach him not to be afraid if we're going to make decisions based on fear, can we?" _

His fingers played with hers. Cal still felt it, even now that they were an the road to being old married couple. The electricity that coursed through him every time they touched. The never ending need for the feel of her skin on his.

_"Maybe we should ask Tyrone how he feels about it before give we her an answer?"_

She'd smiled. _"Good idea." _

Cal was curious what Tyrone would have to say about it. They still hadn't brought it up and he wasn't sure whether it was because of their hectic schedules or...something else entirely. Either way he was itching to broach the topic and his impulsivity told him now was a good time. Now when his foster kid was lugging a piece of luggage down the stairs on the way out the door. Now when he had a flight to catch in less than two hours.

"So Gillian went to see your social worker last week."

Tyrone turned around and plopped down his case. Apprehensive. "So?"

"So she asked her if we're interested in filing for adoption."

"Adoption?" Genuine surprise. That's the first thing Cal saw on his face. Followed by something else...something that was harder to read at first. Trepidation. Scepticism. "Like...adopting me?"

"No, Moritz." Cal mocked him. "Yes, you. Who else?"

Tyrone's eyes narrowed. "And?"

"And what?"

"Are you and Gillian interested in doing that?"

Cal chewed on his lip. Gillian was going to kill him for having this conversation without her in the room. "Yeah. We are."

"You are?"

"Is there a bloody echo in here?" Cal faced him. "Question is, are you interested?"

He was even harder to read now. There were too many emotions on his face at the moment.

"I never had anyone who wanted me."

It was when he said stuff like that, that Cal had a hard time not to let it show how much he wanted the kid to stick around forever. "You do now."

"What's gonna change if you adopt me?"

"Means you're stuck with us and we're stuck with you," he quipped. "You can't go to your social worker and tell her you want a new place to stay and we can't kick you out anymore." Cal offered him a lopsided smile. "Least until your eighteen."

Tyrone didn't say anything. Just stared at him while he stood next to his over-packed suitcase.

For a moment Cal wondered what the hell he was thinking, throwing this on him minutes before he was about to drop him off at Alex Almeida's place for a couple of days. Without Gillian in the room, ready to go into shrink-mode in case Tyrone was freaked out at the prospect.

_Am I ever gonna think before I open my mouth? _

"You know, it's alright if you don't want it," Cal told him, his expression serious because he wanted the kid to know he meant it. "You can keep living with us as long as you want and as long as social services is good with it, either way. Nothing's gonna change if you say you don't want it."

Tyrone was oddly pensive. "Would I have to change my name?"

"Change your name?" Cal didn't quite understand.

"You know...to yours. Lightman."

Cal shrugged. That was the last question he'd expected. "No. Unless you want to. And if you do...doesn't have to be Lightman. Tyrone Foster sounds good to me too."

Tyrone wrinkled his nose. "You're right. That does sound better."

Cal hadn't expected him to agree quite that quickly. "Look...we gotta go. You don't have to give me answer. Not today or tomorrow."

"I'm okay with it."

Cal grabbed his carry-on. "Huh..."

"I don't have to think about it. I'm okay with it."

Cal swallowed. Why the hell did that just put a massive lump in his throat? He nodded and opened the door for the teenager. "Alright...but if you do wanna think about it."

"I don't," he added, following behind him and waiting for Moritz to come through the door as well. "You gonna tell Gillian?"

"Tell her that you're okay with it?"

"Yeah...or I can send her a text."

Cal locked the door with a grin. "Nah...don't do that. I'll tell her when I see her tonight."

* * *

><p><em>Houston, Texas<em>

_Later_

It was late in the evening and the conference presentation was almost over by the time Cal Lightman snuck in through door at the rear of the giant room.

His eyes scanned it as he searched for a seat. There were only a few empty ones here and there, in spite of the size of the room and the late hour. Cal saw several irritated glares coming his way because he hadn't held the door on his way in and it made a wicked noise as it slammed shut.

He spotted an empty seat, three rows from the back, and made a beeline for it.

"Excuse me, pardon me," he mumbled as his legs brushed against a few knees. It was five seats in and he swore he heard someone shushing him just before he slouched down into it.

_Oh get over yourself. _

Another couple of faces turned in his direction and this time Cal saw one of them recognize who he was. Acknowledging him with a subtle nod.

"Doctor Lightman? Is that you?" he heard Gillian's voice announce from the front of the room. She couldn't possibly have seen him from so far back. His big surprise was blown. "You don't have to sneak into the room." She was grinning from the podium, next to Ria Torres. "I'm sure everyone would love to hear a couple of words from you."

Cal gritted his teeth. Dozens of faces turned towards him now.

_I'm gonna kill you, luv. _

He pushed himself off the chair and past four pairs of knees a second time. Slowly making his way to the front of the room. A roar of sudden applause erupted around him, growing to a thunderous crescendo by the time he reached the podium and stood next to Gillian.

Doctor Cal Lightman in the flesh was an unexpected bonus.

He would have revelled in it, for a few seconds at least, if he wasn't suddenly so distracted by his wife who was looking all sorts of stunning, in a frame-hugging dark designer suit and heels. She'd been on a yoga kick in the last twelve months and because of it everything she wore these days looked ridiculously good on her. It was hard to be upset with her when he was already unable to think of anything but the night awaiting him in her hotel suite, far away from any potentially awake teenager in the room next door.

In contrast to her natural elegance, he looked like he'd just stepped off a long-haul flight in his wrinkled clothes.

Not that her beaming face seemed to suggest she cared in the least.

Gillian leaned in to give him a kiss, which only gave further fuel to the applause, amplifying it all over again. He could have sworn he heard some whistling too. "I can't believe you're here," she whispered into his ears.

"And I can't believe you saw me sneak in," he whispered back.

"I have 20/20 vision. You know this."

"Now I do."

Cal waited for the applause to die down and turned around to look at the giant screen behind him.

He knew what the presentation was about. Using facial coding as cues in law enforcement interrogations. He'd seen Foster practice her presentation more than once in their bedroom at night. She was meticulous when it came to stuff like this and would never present anything at a major congress without going over it at least half a dozen times beforehand.

Luckily, he was better at ad-libbing and rambling than she was.

Cal proceeded to spend the next ten minutes adding his own two cents to the topic, much to delight of the crowd.

There were questions afterward too, and all three of them, Foster, Torres and himself humoured the crowd. It was good publicity for the Group and one of the main reasons they took turns travelling across the continent attending these large-scale industry events like this one.

When the questions were over and the room started to empty, there were individuals who came up to the podium. People with whom Torres and Foster had likely already schmoozed during the conference and were now thrilled at the chance to spend some face time with Doctor Lightman.

It was nearly an hour later when the last conference attendee finally left the room and the three of them were the only ones left, folding up their equipment and taking down the props they'd courier back to DC tomorrow while leaving behind what they'd no longer need.

"That was fantastic," Torres pointed out. "They were like kids at Christmas when they saw you enter the room. It was even better than I expected and..."

"Hey, wait a minute," Gillian interrupted her. "Did you know about him coming?"

Torres grinned. "You bet. Stuff like this takes planning."

"I can't believe..."

This time Torres was the one who interrupted Gillian to give her a hug. "Happy anniversary, Foster. There's days when you two almost make me want to get married."

Gillian returned her hug. "Just take the plunge already. You know you're crazy about Eli. As if two gorgeous kids aren't proof enough."

"You're not allowed to nag on your anniversary."

"Nagging? Do I nag?"

Cal shook his head in Torres direction, subtly letting her know what the right answer to that question was.

"No, of course not."

"I saw that," Gillian told Cal and then took her attention back to Torres. "What did you mean about this taking planning?"

Torres pointed to the giant clock hanging on the wall above them. "It means I've got a flight to catch back to DC tonight because someone's got to run the place tomorrow."

"What?" Gillian gave her a surprised look. "You're flying out tonight? You're not even joining us for dinner?"

"Your anniversary dinner? Are you crazy?"

"Ah come on..."

"I gotta run," she told her again, this time stepping towards Cal to give him a hug too. "Go take her out somewhere nice. Foster kicked butt at this conference. We both did."

Cal grinned after he let go of his protégée. He didn't doubt it. With every year at the Group Ria Torres kept getting better at what she did. Never mind that she turned heads whenever she walked into a room. Especially when she wore bright red, skin-hugging dresses like the one she had on tonight.

It's why he made them go to these things. Cal might be the one with a book to his name, but in a room full of stuffy academics who didn't get out much, he couldn't exactly compete with Foster and Torres.

Torres gave them a little wave, picked up her lap top bag and rushed out, leaving them alone in the cavernous room. Save for a couple of banquet staff who'd come in to start moving chairs around, setting it up for another session tomorrow.

Gillian stood right in front of him and wrapped her arms around his neck. "I still can't believe you're here...what about Tyrone?"

"Dropped him off at Alex's place."

"So he was in on this?"

"Course."

"What about our presentation tomorrow morning?"

"I'm gonna do it with you, instead of Torres. You keep nagging me about joining you on these things, don't you?"

She leaned her head back, making him want to kiss her neck. "I don't really nag, do I?" she sighed.

Cal didn't answer the question. Instead, he lowered his chin and made his move. Kissing the base of her neck, tempted to inch further down if it wasn't for the two banquet guys he saw moving chairs from the corner of his eye. "You didn't think I was gonna miss our five-year anniversary, did you?"

"I thought maybe you'd send flowers to the hotel."

_Damn. Flowers. _He hadn't thought about flowers_. _

"I didn't think about flowers," he admitted.

Gillian smirked. "I'll take you over flowers."

"Aye, aye?"

"Happy anniversary," she whispered. "I love you. Still. Always."

She didn't have to say it because he could see read it in her face. It thrilled him a little, not that could see it, but that it was still there every time she said it. It had taken less than two years of marriage with Zoe for it to start disappearing from her face. For her to start saying it without meaning it. Cal knew it was only human and natural, that it would happen on occasion. Both him and Gillian had moments when neither of them were particularly lovable.

But he still he dreaded it and he hoped that at least Gillian would never say it aloud in those moments. Wouldn't _lie _to him.

"Hey..." she narrowed her brows. "So serious. What are you thinking about?"

"About us," he told her. "About what we're gonna do for our tenth anniversary."

She laughed. "You're such a liar."

Cal stepped away from the podium and from the Lightman Group banners they'd already rolled up. Sitting down in one of the chairs in the front row. Gillian sat down next to him, slipped out of her heels and leaned her head against his shoulder. "I want to know what we're doing for our fifth anniversary," she told him with a yawn. "_Tonight_."

_Good question, _he thought. Truth was, he really hadn't given it any thought, beyond making sure he had a flight ticket, shipping Tyrone off to Alex and Maurice's place, and making sure Torres would head back to DC a day early. That was about as much organizational planning his scattered brain could handle. Dinner plans had fallen through the cracks.

He really was lousy at this sort of thing. It reminded him of when he proposed without a ring over five years ago.

"Do you wanna go somewhere nice for dinner?" he asked her. Houston was a big city. It was bound to have some good restaurants. Not that he had the faintest clue what they were.

"My hotel has room service..." She stifled another yawn. These always things tired her out. More so than him. Because she stressed too much to make sure that everything went smoothly. Maybe it was selfish to keep sending her to them instead of himself.

"It's not every day we celebrate five years of marriage," he pointed out. "You sure I can't take you out somewhere nice?"

"We have an early morning tomorrow." She shrugged. "Besides, I like the idea of only you and me in my hotel room. No fancy table settings. No clothes."

He rested a hand on her thigh and grinned. "Have I mentioned that I love you?"

"If you insist you can pay for room service and champagne."

"Now we're talking." This kept getting better.

Cal was about to push himself off his chair. "Well, then, what are we waiting for?"

She nested her head into his shoulders. "Five minutes."

He kissed the top of her head and settled back in. "Your night, luv. We can sit here as long as you like. Camp out if you want."

"It's our night," she corrected him, unable to hold back a yawn this time.

He chuckled. "You gonna last 'til the end of it?"

"We lasted five years, didn't we?" She pushed herself up and stretched. "Went by fast."

Cal nodded. It had gone by quickly.

She pulled her smartphone out of her purse. "Did you see Emily's latest photos from Machu Picchu?"

Cal shook his head. He'd long gotten used to Gill being the electronic communication go-between for him and his daughter. Emily was in Peru at the moment, putting her engineering degree to use by helping build water filtration plants in that country's rural areas. She'd been there for over six months now and was taking a side trip to Machu Picchu this week.

He still remembered the afternoon before she took on the job. Remembered trying to talk her out of it.

_"Do you really have to go to the middle of nowhere in South America to do this? Pretty sure the crumbling infrastructure in this country can put you to good use here somewhere." _

_"Says the guy who did his dissertation work in the remotest jungles of Papua New Guinea while living among hostile natives." _

She was still a smart-ass. Cal probably deserved it. Pay back.

After that didn't work, he'd tried guilt. _"It scares the hell out me, luv. Knowing you're gonna be in a place where I can't keep you safe. Where I might not even be able to reach you." _

Then she'd put her arms around him and given him a hug. _"I don't want you to keep me safe, Dad. I want you to let me make a difference. Support my choices. Let me make mistakes and love me anyway." _

In that moment he'd been too proud to think of a reply.

Cal did let her go. Knowing full well that he didn't really have a say in the matter anyway. He'd raised a strong, determined, smart, bull-headed kid that somehow had all her parents' best qualities and very few of their worst.

He still worried about her on a daily basis. Probably always would. But the pictures she kept sending them made him realize she was happy, doing what she wanted and what she was best at.

"Take a look at this view," Gillian gushed. "It's incredible! I think we should put this on our Bucket List. I want to go."

Cal was more focused on Emily's smiling face than on the stunning mountain backdrop but he nodded in agreement. "Sure. Never been." Plus, it would give them an excuse to see Em.

They made a pact the year after they got married. To take at least one week a year to vacation. Just the two of them. Go somewhere they both wanted to see and leave their cell phones at home. At first, Cal wasn't entirely sure they would manage to go through with it. But they did. Alex Almeida and Ria Torres made sure.

The first year it was a week on a beach in St. Lucia. They'd been so exhausted with all the new business that year, it was exactly what they needed.

But now that they were amply staffed again, their work load was manageable. Meaning they had energy left for vacations that actually required some exploring. Last year was a week in Paris, where they did everything touristy under the sun, from a day at Versailles and another inside the Louvre, to climbing the stairs of the Eiffel tower and eating escargots and cassoulet in a bistro along the Seine. He'd protested against half the things Gillian insisted they do that week, but in hindsight he had to admit it was a splendid seven days. Especially the one day they didn't leave their hotel room at all. If given the chance to do it all again, he would in a heartbeat. Even the mind-numbing afternoon they spent at the Musee d'Orsay.

They hadn't booked this year's trip yet, but Istanbul and the Canadian Rockies were the two frontrunners at the moment.

Gillian's phone was buzzing. "It's a Skype call from Alex," she told him. "Hope Tyrone's okay."

"I'm more concerned about Moritz. He gets anxious around those yappy poodles."

Gillian gave him a nudge in his ribs as she answered the call and Tyrone's face came on the screen. "Hi sweetheart, you okay?"

"I'm fine," he grumbled. "Did Cal tell you it's okay?"

Gillian's brows narrowed. "What's okay?"

"I told him about us wanting to adopt him..." Cal blurted out before Tyrone had a chance to answer.

Gillian put a hand over the screen so Tyrone couldn't see them. "You did what? We were supposed to have this conversation together! The three of us!"

"I know, I know..." Cal winced. "It slipped out. He says it's okay. He wants it too."

His wife gave him a look. "You are unbelievable."

She took her hand off the phone.

"Where'd you go?"

"To yell at Cal," she told him. "Ty, we were going to talk about this together."

Cal saw disappointment and anger on his face. "Are you...not cool with it anymore?"

"No," Gillian was suddenly aware of what her reaction sounded like. "No! I mean...yes, of course I'm cool with it. You have no idea how cool."

Cal moved his head over towards the screen on her phone. "You coulda given me ten minutes to tell her. Talk about jumping the gun."

"Wonder where he got that from," Gillian mumbled.

"Sorry," Tyrone shot back. "Wanted to check, that's all."

"It's okay," Gillian told him. "Glad you did. It makes me so happy. Best anniversary present I could've asked for."

"Really?"

"Really."

Cal listened, butting in occasionally, as they chatted some more until one of the poodles jumped onto Tyrone's lap and he dropped the phone. Alex was the one who picked it up, his chubby face filling the screen after a few moments of darkness. "Happy anniversary, darling," he cooed to Gillian. "Make sure Cal takes you somewhere nice and expensive. Maurice wants you to check out this place called Oxheart. He says they have the best tasting menu in Texas."

Gillian grinned. "Might be tricky without a reservation."

"Bribe the maitre'd."

"We'll see," she grinned. "Thank you for looking after our two kids tonight."

"You can thank me by taking the poodles next weekend when Maurice and I head down to Charleston."

"Deal."

They chatted some more before Gillian ended the call and turned to Cal.

"Sorry," he told her before she had a chance to say anything. "Shoulda waited before telling him."

"It's okay," she told him, meaning it. "The fact that he called right after you got here...it's crazy, Cal. Means he wants it as much as we do."

"Had a feeling he might. The kid loves you."

"And you."

"Figured he was gonna stay with us for the long haul anyway. Might as well make it official." He took one of her hands in his and ran a thumb across the top of it. "He's already part of the family anyway."

Gillian nodded in agreement as she exhaled. "Yeah. He is."

"Fancy dinner?"

"Yes," she nodded. "But it's Texas. Nothing formal. Let's find a bar where the guys wear cowboys hats and we can line dance."

"You're joking."

She giggled. "Maybe."

One of the banquet porters approached them. Told them they were about to close up the room for the night.

Cal grabbed one of the rolled up banners as well as his wife's laptop bag and the two of them made their way out of the empty room.

He felt Gillian's arm hook into his. "Have I mentioned how much I love that you came here?"

"You did, but you can tell me again."

She leaned into him, her height matching his exactly thanks to her heels. Gillian was his equal in every sense of the word. Cal turned sideways and saw her gorgeous blue eyes looking at him. Amused. "Love you," she mouthed.

Cal pulled her a little closer still, realizing then that he had no idea where they were going. But it didn't matter. Room service, fine dining or cowboy bar.

Only thing he cared about was that she was coming with him.

**The End **


End file.
